


Broken Glass

by BryonNightshade



Series: The Legacy of Cain [13]
Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X, Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: Dr. Cain being contrary, F/M, Human-reploid relations, Missing the point of X, Politics of Hunting, X4 prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24532480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BryonNightshade/pseuds/BryonNightshade
Summary: People are practicing politics with the new Repliforce. The fallout includes a newbuilt Iris, who believes she's damaged goods- which puts her in good company, since Zero's always thought the same about himself.
Relationships: Iris/Zero (Rockman), X & Zero
Series: The Legacy of Cain [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1628878
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

As they filed in, they brought their chatter with them. "…look, I try, but it's so hard to be humble…"

A sigh. "'When you're perfect in every way'?"

A grin. "You said it, not me."

"I guess we'll know in a few hours, huh?"

And,

"You reek. Were you out all night?"

"Yeah… and don't talk so loud."

"You're not hungover. You're still drunk."

"Don't worry about it. I had a pot of coffee on my way in today."

"Oh, great, so you're drunk _and_ wired. Much better."

"Screw you."

"Seriously, you are not doing this drunk."

"I sure ain't doin' it sober."

"If you puke while you're in the lab, you'll be so fired your whole family will be unemployed."

"Then maybe I'll be your remote support. No need to go in the lab."

"Guys," said a more authoritative voice, "you're running behind. Get a move on."

"Like it matters. _He's_ not going anywhere. There's no technical reason to work the timing like this."

"Technical reasons aren't the only ones that matter. You know that."

"Whatever. Let's just get this done."

"That's what I've been _saying_ …"

* * *

Knock knock.

Dr. Cain panicked. His hand smacked at the monitor's power button. Only when the schematics had disappeared from the screen did he call, "Come in."

"Good morning," was the chipper greeting from the doorway.

"X!" said Dr. Cain. "I was just thinking to myself how you never call these days."

"Hopefully that doesn't detract from my being here now," X replied.

"I supposed it meant things were exceptionally calm. We're not due for another war, are we?"

X winced. "Too far."

"It's hard to tell sometimes."

"And you know things aren't calm right now. They're never that calm. It's always something."

Cain huffed. "Sorry for not being gracious," he said grudgingly.

"Don't worry about it." X grabbed a chair and sat down opposite Cain.

The human keyed on that immediately. "You don't have to sit," he said. "I know it doesn't make you comfortable."

"I want us to be on the same level," X replied.

Cain smiled. "Very good. A subtle declaration of equality built in to a gesture to become non-threatening. I like it. You're getting better at this."

X sighed. "Do we have to parse everything, even between us?"

"That sort of parsing happens all the time, anyway," Cain pointed out. "The people who think they're not doing it are just doing it subconsciously. We should make an effort to be conscious of it. That lets us understand it, and so control it."

"You know how I feel on this subject," X said wearily. "I don't like the idea of manipulating people."

"It's not manipulation. It's influencing. Much softer."

"I like to think my arguments stand on their own merits," X said. "At least, they should be able to, if there's any truth to them."

"Ah, but that's just it," said Cain. "The people who want bad things—who want things their way—they'll be trying to influence like crazy. If you can't fight back in the same terms, you're at a disadvantage that makes it harder for your argument to hit home."

X waved a hand vaguely in the air. "So you're my sophist, teaching me rhetoric so I can fight the clouds?"

Cain knew not to get suckered into historical-philosophical-whatever conversations with X. "It's like why you started fighting. Righteousness is good and all, but you had to throw your power into the balance for it to stop Sigma."

"Ah," said X, as if understanding him for the first time. "So _that's_ why you helped the government design and build a new combat reploid."

Cain's cheer vanished. "I don't know what you're talking about."

X held Cain's gaze with his own even as his arm moved. The distraction tactic worked well enough that X's hand was on the monitor before Cain realized the danger. "No, don't touch—"

Too late. The screen flickered to life, showing a schematic of a warbot. "What's this?" X asked innocently.

Cain crossed his arms. "Fine, go ahead and look. Indulge yourself."

"Thank you." X hummed gently as he scooted his chair closer. Cain stewed. The really frustrating part of it all, he thought to himself, was how harmless X seemed, how happy he was when talking about children. It was hard to stay angry at him.

"Very high-end," X said. "No expenses spared… I think, anyway. I am lapsed in my certs."

"I can't imagine why," Cain said drily.

X gave a tight smile. "Looks like you used me as the base… but there's some different—ah. Here it looks like you were borrowing design principles from Zero."

"To the extent we understand him."

"What was the charter? Or did they just give you free rein to do whatever you wanted?"

"There is no free rein in my life," Cain said, and it was only afterwards that he realized how bitter he sounded. "Yes, there was a charter. An ar-and-dee charter, mind you, since they don't trust me to actually build anything. 'Develop a design for a high performance combat reploid with leadership responsibilities.' They even gave me a name for the design—Colonel."

"You don't even get to name him. Ouch."

"Says the bot who only sort-of has a name, Mister Variable."

X frowned, though Cain knew it wasn't at their running joke. "This isn't your style," he said, pointing at a part of Colonel's head. "What is this?"

"The Escape," Cain said with a roll of his eyes.

"The what?"

"The Evolved Suffering Circuit. But some people do love their acronyms, so it became ee-ess-see, and then someone looked at a keyboard, and now it's "escape"."

"It's better than Kernel," said X charitably.

"That's not saying much."

X frowned. "I know I'm lapsed in my certs, but I don't know why this is here. Especially why it's so… over-engineered."

"It's because of the Zero-esque design elements. And the way they've built his mind at a software level. I know you can't see that in the schematics, so I'll tell you. They're deviating from the template we created once upon a time. They're hard-coding some of his personality parameters."

X blanched, as Cain knew he would. "How? It makes a difference. I can think of three ways they might have done that. Tell me they didn't choose to…"

"…Replace the personality generator completely? Why, yes, I think they did."

"No," X groaned. "That's the bad way to do it. The personality generator helps regulate a reploid's development. Without it, the factory settings stick too much."

"Well, they're certain that they've got the factory settings right. Or at least, they're certain they've got the factory settings they want. And that makes everything okay!"

X's eyes closed. "Your sarcasm is thicker than usual today."

"Sorry. No I'm not. The point is—I'm with you. It looks like hubris. But that would fit."

"What do you mean? Why are they insisting on this?"

"They think they can inoculate against Maverickism. Or at least against Sigma's brand of it."

X gave a sharp look at that. "How?"

"Pride. Martial pride, in this case. Sigma's at his most effective when he's bringing pride to those who've never had any before. By building pride into this design, they want to make it hard for Sigma to gain any traction."

"Martial pride," X repeated. "Oh! Not Kernel. _Colonel_."

"He's not even activated yet and you're wearing out his name."

"Sorry, I misheard… wait." He frowned; when his voice returned, it was much slower. "We don't have Colonels in the Maverick Hunters."

"No, you don't."

"But he's not being built for the Maverick Hunters, is he?"

Cain grinned. "You are so very clever."

The indirectness of it made X sigh. "You're under non-disclosure, aren't you?"

"Yes, but we've come this far already, so screw it. They're calling it Repliforce. This—" he gestured at the schematic—"is their commanding officer. Or will be, once they activate him."

"Why build a new organization when the Hunters already… oh." He looked at the schematic again. "Maverickism. Hunters have gone Maverick. Just months ago was the latest example, when Mack helped Doppler start the Third War. If they think pride is the way to beat Maverickism, they can't compromise that pride with a history of failure."

"And wouldn't you know," Cain said with a malicious twinkle in his eye, "not a single member of Repliforce has ever gone Maverick, ever! Isn't that remarkable?"

"Repliforce doesn't exist yet, of course none of them have gone Maverick."

"Don't bother me with trifles," Cain said with a dismissive hand-sweep. "It's sure not stopping the government. They've scheduled him to activate at 5:55 pm, on May the fifth- that's five fives, in case you were counting- so that they can summarize it with a hand gesture." Cain raised two fingers in a 'v' shape. "This is supposed to be step one in stopping Maverickism for good. That's why the 'v' for victory."

"Didn't someone once say that the hen is the wisest of all animals, because she only clucks after the egg is laid?"

"Lincoln did. This is what happens when people take freshman English but skip sophomore history."

X seemed to gather himself. Cain noticed, and smiled. He couldn't wait to see what was on X's mind. "Maybe I overvalue variability—with my name, maybe I have to, just like you said. But to define a person so narrowly, and clip their growth… even if that were a good idea in isolation, and at first blush it looks like a _terrible_ idea, it's even worse for a leader. A leader has to be flexible. If your personality locks you into a general approach, you're guaranteed to encounter situations you can't deal with. That's acceptable for the rank and file, but not for the one directing the rank and file."

Cain beamed at him. "Bravo, X! That's a brilliant analysis. Of course, _I_ think it's brilliant because I happen to agree with it. But that takes us back to the Escape. Your suffering circuit is what gives you your empathy. You can model the emotions of others and feel their pain as if it were yours. It's hard to be a moral being without that ability.

"In their minds, amping up the suffering circuit gives back some of the lost flexibility. It keeps the pride in check- at least a little bit- by forcing Colonel to consider others more than a typical reploid would. Why, you should feel flattered. They were trying to adopt your model of a strong conscience regulating great power."

X peered at the design. "But my suffering circuit isn't external like that," he objected. "It's integrated at a lower level. In fact…" His concern deepened. "If I read this right, the input is at the conscious level. And it's so…" He waved his hand, trying to come up with the right word. "…loud."

Cain leaned back. "Welcome to my world. I sit here and see the products of everyone else messing up. And I can't do anything about it. 'I have no mouth and I must scream'."

"Ellison," X noted. "Is that why you helped with Colonel? To show them how it's done?"

"I do have pride of my own," Cain said ambiguously. This wasn't fun any more. He suddenly felt exposed. He wanted to be alone, but he could hardly say that to X now.

"Oh… it was my fault, wasn't it?"

"Eh?" said Cain, caught off-guard.

"You were lonely. You wanted other people in your life. Even if it was for someone else, if you could build someone to fill the hole…"

"Stop. Your guilt complex makes me nauseous. It's like you were the sole survivor of a bombing at a Catholic church. Listen, I've been alone my whole life. I've made a lifestyle of being misunderstood. Those things don't really bother me."

"I don't like it when you lie to me," X said reproachfully.

"Hush. The reason I went along with this little project is the same as ever—the same reason I went looking for you, the same reason I built reploids, the…" Cain felt the agitation spilling out of him. "…the same reason that being reduced to a, a _glorified mechanic_ is the most exquisite torture they could have conceived for me."

"Advancing the science of robotics," X said with a wry smile.

"No offense to you, X, but this-" he gestured all around him, "-is not how I'd prefer to spend my time. 'In-house technical consultant to the Maverick Hunters'… ha! I want to be doing—"

"—this," said X, pointing at the schematic. "They gave you carte blanche to make the best reploid you could. So you took the chance to push the limits again. To break all the old patterns one more time. That's why you leaned so heavily on Zero's design elements. You wanted to introduce new and different tech."

"And because he's a gorgeous specimen of a warbot," Cain added, "but yes. Miscegenation would be the term, if you and Zero were human. Which, predictably, scared them."

X nodded with familiarity. "So they had to go back and find ways to limit your advances, bring the design back in a more comfortable direction. And you got to be misunderstood, again, which is your actual comfort zone."

Cain grinned. "I'd almost take offense to that, if there were less truth in it. Yes, those scaredy-cats saw so much Zero that they panicked. Too much Zero, they thought, better add some X back in. Idiots."

X laughed. He raised his hands as if to put Cain's face in a frame. "No wonder they brought you in on this. Who better to build a robot defined by pride?"

"I didn't have anything to do with _that_ ," Cain rumbled. "That wasn't my design choice. I learned that lesson."

He didn't elaborate, and he was happy when X decided not to ask. Cain wondered if X knew what he'd meant, or if he was just too polite to pry.

Sigma.

Sigma was the last reploid Cain had been allowed to build personally, before the First Maverick War had caused the government to rescind every last one of Cain's licenses. Sigma—a reploid whose pride was so intense it had taken on a life of its own. So intense the government had felt the need to provide new robots with built-in inoculation.

"Anyway," Cain said, more moderately, "they shoot horses that break their legs. It's an act of mercy. If an animal lives for a thing, then can't do that thing…"

"'Specialization is for insects'," X countered.

"Heinlein," Cain mumbled. "Touché."

X smiled. Then his eyes touched Cain's clock, and the smile fell. "I've got another obligation," he said regretfully. "Talking to you is fun, and you know what they say."

"'Absence makes the heart grow fonder'?" Cain growled. "No, no, that's not it. I've got it. 'Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me'."

X winced. "I promise not to let it go so long between visits this time, Mr. Loneliness-doesn't-bother-me."

Cain's brow relaxed. "A watched pot never boils."

"The pleasure's mine, Dr. Cain."

Cain didn't watch X go. He hated departures. He turned to the monitor and started looking again. Not at anything specific, though. Nothing caught his eye.

"You know…" X's voice, coming from the doorway. Cain looked that way. "Signas is coming along quickly. He's been fast-tracked for a command role."

"You say that like I care," Cain said gruffly. "Why would I care about some random reploid? I wouldn't. I don't care."

X's mouth did not move. He seemed to smile with his eyes alone. "I was just making conversation."

"Hey, X," Cain said before X got out the door. "You're not cutting him any slack, are you?"

"Why would I cut him slack?"

"I know you. You can get so sentimental, sometimes."

That eye-smile again. "He's holding his own. When he's commander of the Hunters, I won't mind serving under him."

Cain sniffed. "That's fine, then. So long as you're satisfied."

X smiled fully that time before shutting the door.

Cain managed to restrain himself for a few seconds before his smile blossomed. "That's my boy," he purred. Whistling tunelessly, he turned back to the monitor once more.

* * *

Zero grunted as plasma washed over his armor. The reploid who'd shot him panicked when Zero didn't stop. He should have known better. It would have taken much more than that to genuinely harm the Red Demon.

Before his armor had cooled Zero was inside the range of the reploid's buster. A sweep of Zero's saber cleaved the Maverick in twain.

No time to pause, or even check to make sure the Maverick was really dead—Zero was pushing onwards already, pressed for time. Powerful, booster-assisted legs sent him hurtling forward. His peripheral vision blurred as he accelerated down the street.

'Where is he?' Zero thought as he dashed. He had no power to spare to charge a buster shot, but he kept an unlit saber gripped tight in his hand. 'Which side of the street?'

That one.

With a boom and a rumble, a hulking form crashed through a building and into Zero's view. Dust and rubble billowed around the oversized humanoid and its so-distinct head.

Sigma!

Hatred coursed through Zero's body—but he capped it, pushed it back down. Contained it. Harnessed it.

Sigma was still obscured by the dust, but Zero didn't slow down even a little bit. When Sigma swung, wielding some kind of flail, Zero ducked under it. Only sheer velocity kept him from hitting the ground.

As he passed, he ignited the saber and held it out. He didn't swing it so much as he dragged it against his foe's torso in passing. An inconvenient wound, but not a mortal one; he had no time for more.

His next stride put so much force against the pavement that he cracked the concrete. Zero didn't just recover his stride; he pushed up and twisted into a spin, like a figure skater who's about to blow out her knee. A buster shot rang out and pelted the back of Sigma's leg. Zero knew in advance it wouldn't cripple, but if it slowed him a little it'd be good enough.

Zero finished his twist-spin, coming down facing his original direction, and surged back up to full speed.

There!

The target was coming into view. A reploid that looked vaguely like Tunnel Rhino was closing on a group of helpless, cowering humans. The range was extreme but evaporating quickly. Zero slowed just enough to start charging a shot. A little more… a little more… no, too much… perfect.

At 150 meters, Zero planted his feet, leveled his buster, and unleashed a carefully calibrated mid-strength plasma bolt. The shot struck the Maverick's head, penetrated its armor—and did no more. No energy escaped. The Maverick didn't fall down or explode. It just stopped.

Zero didn't have time to savor this. The flail was coming at him again. He dodged as the capacitors in his arms began to whine again. "Die, Zero!" bellowed Sigma as he whipped the flail around.

Zero dodged backwards—one shot, then two burned into Sigma's chest—he spun around the flail—and then a saber-first lunge impaled Sigma with fiery death.

Zero's anger boiled over. "You first," he spat. He tore the saber free.

Sigma collapsed.

It took a moment for Zero to regain his composure. Then he replaced his saber, looked upwards, and called, "Grade!"

"One hundred percent," was the reply.

All around Zero, photons fizzled and dissipated. When matters calmed, Zero was standing in a featureless black room. A door opened, breaking the monotony; Zero took it.

"One hundred percent?!" exclaimed the trainer operator. "It's supposed to be impossible to ace that scenario."

"The fixes they made were lazy ones," Zero replied with contempt. His mind was still roiling with leftover anger. "They cost me a few percent last time by changing the range to Tunnel Rhino. It made it harder to get to him and took me longer to get an accurate shot."

"But you solved that this time," the operator said.

"Yes, by disregarding all else for speed," Zero said. His hand tightened. "I would never act like that outside the simulator. In there, I'm willing to take a hit to save a few seconds, but only because I know what I'm up against. On a Hunt, I never would. This is negative training- worse than useless."

Turning on the spot, Zero stalked away. He was still angry. This was unusual, he was pretty sure. It was hard to tell, admittedly—so hard to recall any non-combat data—but he was fairly certain. Normally, even seeing Sigma didn't keep his angry this long, especially when it was just a simulation.

He stopped when he realized he didn't know where he was going.

Disorientation overtook him. He knew the layout of Hunter Base, that was sure, but for the life of him he didn't know where in Hunter Base he was supposed to go now. Nor did he know what he'd do whenever he got to the place he didn't know to go.

With a shake, Zero realized he had much bigger problems than anger. He wasn't really angry—he'd held on to that because it beat the alternative. Anger was easy to understand and manage. It was a simple negative feedback loop. It was an emotion that spurred him to act to remove the source of the anger. It helped him focus.

No, he wasn't angry. It was much, much worse than that. He was _bored_.

He didn't know how to deal with that. He couldn't attack the cause because boredom arises from absence. And he couldn't even define it properly, because words like "existential angst" weren't in his dictionary.

X—he needed X. X would know what to do. But… where was X?

A frown on his face, Zero started running.

* * *

"Something's wrong. We're not reaching cognition milestones."

"Boot up's still proceeding."

"How? There's a dependency—"

"Getting errors. We're stalling out."

"What errors?"

"I don't know, I don't recognize these codes."

"Look 'em up. Everyone, we're at all stop while we figure this out."

"No we're not."

"Don't you dare try to push forward with this."

"I'm not. I'm saying we're going backwards."

Necks craned toward the speaker. "What do you mean?"

"The personality matrix is destabilizing. We're devolving."

"Stop it!"

"How?"

"Okay, we're backing out of this procedure. Take us back to stage one awareness."

"We never actually got to stage one. Never made it stick. We've been bouncing off of it…"

"Losing control—I'm locked out!"

"I've got a loop… shifting to safe mode to try and get out of it…"

"This isn't supposed to be happening!"

"Alright, everyone, I want to lock down to stage zero. Get me opinions in three minutes as to whether we can do that safely."

Three minutes of silence went by.

"Alright, talk to me."

The four other roboticists looked at the lead with varying flavors of confusion and uncertainty. Finally one managed to say, "Maybe?"

* * *

Anxiety was eating Zero up. Where was X? Not in the lab, not in the library, not in the tube, not in the...

Zero smacked himself in the face and changed direction. X didn't go on patrol for its own sake like Zero did; he wasn't so desperate for action that he actively sought out trouble. Usually he was part of the ready reserve to respond to important Hunts on demand. However, there was a requirement for all Hunters to go on patrol from time to time, to maintain proficiency. Was this his night?

Zero barreled onto the Hunter watch floor. As ever, it was in the process of being rebuilt- the Third Maverick War had started with Doppler's puppets blitzing Hunter Base, and the Watch Floor had been a target. Half the consoles were in some state of disassembly, and one of the walls was still all temporary materials.

Only one Operator was on the floor, which, Zero realized belatedly, made sense given the hour. Alia- Zero felt a moment of relief when the name came up readily- was at one of the fully-functional consoles. Her eyes did not leave her screen when Zero came in.

"Alia," he began, "I'm looking for..."

"Hold please," she said tersely, and held a finger to the side of her head. It surprised Zero. Usually he had an Operator's full attention the instant he demanded it. "Alright," she said, clearly not to Zero, "based on that we'll go with route option bee... Roger."

She lowered her finger and looked to Zero. "Yes, sir?"

"Is X on patrol?" The words fairly burst from Zero's mouth.

"Yes," Alia replied, pointing to dots on her screen. "I was working with him, in fact. He's been designing dynamic patrol series. He wants to combine the functions of the patrols so we can get more..."

She kept on speaking, but she sounded to Zero like she was very far away. On one level, the things she was saying were probably interesting; Zero cared a lot about patrols and reconnaissance and the like, so much so he'd helped write Hunter doctrine on those topics. Tonight, none of it was as important as the fact that X wasn't where Zero could reach him. (It didn't even occur to Zero to contact X by radio. Distracting X when he was in a potential combat scenario? If the thought had occurred to Zero, he would have abhorred it.)

He wondered for a moment if he should try talking to Alia. No. She wouldn't understand. She was a reploid, just like all the others in the city, and Zero wasn't. Listen to her! She had a place- she belonged- she had links to others. Zero didn't. The job was it, and X. Hunting and his one friend, that was his whole world. That was all he understood.

Alia was still talking. She might as well have been whistling or making birdsong for how much sense it made to Zero. Frustration!

Zero's hands itched.

On an instinctive level, he wanted to... wanted to...

No. Something else. Anything else.

Zero had been dealing with this for years, he wouldn't slip up and disgrace himself now. Nothing must endanger his staying with the Hunters...

What was _wrong_ with him tonight?

He was keeping his usual rigid control of his face and posture, but inside he was a rockslide. He noticed Alia had stopped talking. Wrong-footed, he reached for a response. "Helping X out is always important. Anything you're doing to help him, you should... keep doing."

Alia smiled, though Zero couldn't understand why. "I will."

He tried to think of something else to say. When the seconds extended, he gave up, and turned to leave.

"Hey, sir. If you ever need anything..."

He looked back at her. Alia's mouth was open, but no sound came out. "Yes?" he prompted. Whoops- too harsh.

"Never mind," she said. "It's nothing. Have a nice night."

Disappointment swept through Zero, though he honestly couldn't have said what he'd been hoping for. He gave her a curt nod and exited the command center.

He was supposed to be doing something! He needed a Hunt, needed a _war_... no, no, no, X wouldn't like that. War was bad, Zero reminded himself half-heartedly. But if not that, what else was there? Maybe Rekir knew something... no, that wouldn't work either. Rekir had had his patrol early in the day, and had spent the rest of normal working hours doing Zero's paperwork. He was in the tube now, and he needed to be or he wouldn't be ready for his patrol the next day.

Well, _there_ was an option. Zero could go to his tube. He didn't need to, exactly, he could go for a while on the power he had. Still... he wouldn't be bored... The tube was like a time machine. He could go into it, and come back into a different world.

But there was a cost. His tube wasn't a restful place for him these days.

Almost without realizing it, his feet had taken him to the squad leader's dorm. A central, high-ceilinged common room was ringed with two floors' worth of doors, each leading to small private rooms. Those were so small that they could hold a tube and a desk and little else- Hunter Base expanded after every war, but there never seemed to be any more room. Still, the fact that they were private meant a lot. Hunter leadership put a premium on the mental health of the squad leaders. Which, ultimately, was futile as long as Zero was a squad leader.

Warily, the warbot went to the first room on the right. A large brass label plate with engraved numbers "00" was on the door. X's, Zero knew, was on the second floor all the way to the left, and had "17" on its label plate. Zero fancied he could feel how empty X's room was. It was deflating.

He looked at the tube as if it were a trap, but he clambered in even so. Well, he thought to himself, at least it wouldn't be boring.

* * *

The phone rang. Dr. Cain had answered before the first ring had finished. "Yes?"

"Dr. Cain, this is Dr. Noventa. I'm on the Colonel project. We need you to send over all the documentation you have on the Colonel design."

"When do you need it by?"

"As soon as possible."

"It was a trick question," Cain said sharply. "You already have copies of all my data. Right from the start I've had full disclosure. But now I know you're in a hurry." He glanced at a clock while speaking, so the lackey on the other side would have no opening. "It is now seven-twenty-three. That's well after five-fifty-five, which was the designated time for Colonel to activate. From the urgency of your call, and what you asked for, I'm guessing the activation isn't going as planned."

Cain's voice went from sword-sharp to scalpel-sharp—more precise and cutting than ever. "Only one question remains. Am I your Hail Mary solution, or are you looking for a scapegoat for your failure?"

"We… uh… hold on."

Seconds later, a different voice came over the phone. "Dr. Cain," it said gravely.

Cain wanted to reply, Ah, Barnum, how appropriate you're in charge of this clown-show—but he didn't. He restrained himself to a terse, "Yes?"

"We have some questions about your Colonel design."

Cain rolled his eyes. "I just had this discussion with your lackey. Do you want my help or not?"

"That 'lackey' is a highly trained roboticist. _He_ thought calling you was a waste of time. This attitude of yours is why."

That made it clear enough to Dr. Cain. Barnum wouldn't have called Cain just to throw him under the bus—he'd have gone ahead and done it. Instead, he was doing something he found distasteful. Which meant…

Cain softened his words. "For Colonel's sake, I'll help you in any way I can. What's the problem?"

"We can't get to level one awareness. We keep bouncing off. The personality matrix won't coalesce. Without it, higher functions can't even get started."

"He doesn't know who he is," Cain murmured, "which means he doesn't know how to think."

"That shouldn't be true, though. That's what's so frustrating! We removed variability in the initialization process. This should be the easy part."

"Alright," Cain said determinedly. "I'm coming over."

"You're—what?"

"I'm coming to your location," Cain repeated. "I'll have to be at your lab for this. I can't do all of this over the phone, and if we're slinging code on the fly I'll need physical access. No way our nets are connected. I have to come to you."

"…I thought you were under work arrest."

Now, Cain knew, was not the time to get into a discussion of his legal status, or if "work arrest" was an actual thing. "I've pre-arranged for a Hunter escort. I'll be in Hunter custody the whole time. That'll buy us enough benefit of the doubt to save Colonel. They can re-arrest me afterwards if they please. Oh," he added, "if you really want to get ahead of the game, you need to beg, borrow, or steal a reploid body with an internal transmitter. That's essential to what we need to do."

"Wait, why?"

Cain sighed, and gave himself a short sermon on patience. "I can explain over the phone, thus delaying both of us, or I can call you from a cell phone after I'm on the way."

"I don't know where I can find a body."

Cain grit his teeth. This was one reason he hated working with Barnum. His favorite bureaucratic tactic was willful incompetence. If he disagreed with what other people wanted, suddenly he couldn't do _anything_.

For Colonel, Cain thought to himself, and once more he checked his preferred response. "I'll be there inside of an hour," he said instead. "I'll call you on the way. If you won't take me on faith, I'll explain it to you then."

"…alright."

Unwilling to entertain more delays, Cain hung up, surged to his feet—and staggered, barely catching himself on his desk. His back immediately complained. "Ow!" he let out, and reached for his cane. "I am getting too old for this kind of game." He chuckled. "Still, compared to what's about to happen, forcing this stubborn, stiff body to comply… that's almost easy."

He took a moment to catch his breath, then started hobbling his way out.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Cain walked into the lab behind Barnum, with his Hunter minder on his heels. He had no attention to spare for his escort, not when there was so much ahead of him that was so much more interesting. "Ah, so you were able to find a body after all. It has an internal transmitter, right?"

"You made a particular point of that, yes," said Barnum. It had been years since Cain had seen the other roboticist. Barnum had gained some weight, so that his (expensive) clothes had visible strain to them. He was clean shaven, and had a growing bald spot. Even so, he managed to affect dignity. His voice was dark and dubious, but also politic.

He'll do, Cain decided. "Good. It's an essential feature."

"This was supposed to be an operator for the Hunters," Barnum added meaningfully.

It took Cain some seconds to grasp why Barnum said that. Politics again. Trying to ensure that Cain had some skin in the game. A bad outcome would anger the Hunters, who'd punish Cain for it- or something. Cain smiled. "I care about Colonel. That's motivation enough. Now, let's look at your errors."

Reluctantly, the other roboticists parted to let him pass. There was a monitor near by the semi-inactive head of the would-be Colonel. Dr. Cain sat down in front of it and started scrolling; Barnum took station behind him and launched into a narrative.

"We've troubleshot a significant amount of this. There's some problem in the personality generation process. We're getting consistent errors when we try to transition to level one awareness. At level zero, none of the personality parameters are loaded. No problems. Which is what you'd expect- it's the same basic, machine-level stuff robots have used for a century. It's when we try to make the transition that we get into trouble. The initial boot to level one is when his personality is supposed to come together. It won't."

"When does the Escape start providing input?"

"Early on in the transition process. Well before the transition reaches its failure point. We wanted to leave no gap for when that feedback wouldn't be active. With this much power, we weren't taking chances."

"That's before sensor input comes online, though," Dr. Cain pointed out. "A suffering circuit models the feelings of others. If it doesn't have anything to model..."

"Then it uses null data. We're not careless, Dr. Cain," Barnum said sternly.

"I didn't say you were. What kind of null data?"

"The same as ever. The same every reploid uses. We didn't make any changes there, that's not the problem."

Cain sat back in his chair. He turned to look up at Barnum. "Have you ever spoken to X?"

"The prototype?" said Barnum, stiffening. "No. Why would I?"

"He has a unique perspective," said Cain as he swiveled the chair around. "He's able to speak like a roboticist, with the added advantage of _being_ a robot. The way he can describe things... He told me what it's like to have a suffering circuit, one time. When it's sending null- when it's not actively modeling people- it's like a voice whispering, 'Other people matter'. Now, ask me what he said when I showed him the Escape."

Barnum flushed. "Dr. Cain, you are under non-disclosure."

Cain's patience evaporated. "Shut up and listen. He said, 'It looks loud'. Think about that for a moment. _Loud_. The base suffering circuit is a whisper- a gentle, low-level reminder. But this over-engineered Escape?" He cupped his mouth with his hands. "OTHER PEOPLE MATTER!" he shouted.

"He's gone mad," one of the other roboticists muttered.

"Don't invite me in to be the expert and then tell me I don't know my craft," Cain snapped. "You're trying to protect your pride, but we're past that now. Or we should be. These problems are the direct result of Colonel's design and build. You stripped the personality generator, so he can't grow. His personality can't shift to incorporate this excessive input, or adapt to it, or deal with it. That's why his matrix shakes apart. It's rigid, and the Escape rattles it to pieces."

Another member of the government team shook his head. His badge said Noventa- yes, the one that had said contacting Cain was a waste of time. "We need to go cold iron. Back all the way out, and start over with a software rebaseline..."

"Don't you dare," Cain growled. He angled the monitor for maximum visibility. "Colonel's coming together the same way every time. Look at this! Compare it to this attempt, and this one, and this one- same, same, same. You can see a person there. He's passed Moulson's threshold. Colonel is a person, now. Rebaseline him and you kill him. Besides," he said, looking squarely at Barnum, "rebaselining, editing, retesting, reloading... that's days, if not weeks, of time you'll never get back. If you take that route, you'll have to explain to your political masters why your mistakes made it necessary."

There were mumbles at that- but none from Barnum. He frowned. Cain left his focus on the team leader. He didn't need to convince the clowns, just the ringmaster.

"What's your plan?" Barnum asked.

Cain gathered himself. "We're going to use this second body. What you need to do is transplant the Escape from Colonel..."

"You can't do that," interrupted one of the other roboticists. "Can't be done. The Escape's integral to his bootup and thought processes. Without its input he can't function."

"...into this body," Cain continued more loudly, "using the dedicated transmitter in each to let Colonel sense the signal. This body will water the signal down. His-" he stopped, looked over, changed pronouns, "- _her_ personality isn't set the way Colonel's is. The Escape won't overwhelm her the way it's overwhelming him; she'll adapt. The wind blows over the oak, but not the willow. She'll adjust to it and live. Then, a filtered- manageable- version of the signal will reach Colonel and satisfy his needs."

The other roboticists looked at each other skeptically. "What, and create a dependency between the two machines?"

"Yes," said Cain. "They'll be twins. Conjoined twins- joined at the brain."

"This is a bad idea," Noventa said. "I don't know why we'd do this."

"It preserves Colonel is why," Cain snapped. "Preserves him the way you want him, without killing him in the process."

"It hamstrings him! It ties him to comms range of this twin."

"A problem you can address with hardware upgrades and by tying them to the global comms grid."

"That doesn't solve anything, it just... look, let's just rebaseline. We know how to do that."

Bile rose in Cain's throat. "Fine. You want to kill Colonel trying to save him? I wash my hands of this..."

"Your hands were never involved!" Noventa said hotly.

"...but when the investigation comes- and it will, when you miss all of your deadlines- I will throw each and every one of you under the bus."

Barnum shook his head. "You've always been like this. Always so righteous. So confident only you know what the right thing is."

"This is your chance to know it, too."

"And how well has that worked out for you?"

Cain crossed his arms with a huff. "I regret nothing."

"Says the Man Who Allowed the Maverick Wars!"

It was one of the other roboticists that had blurted out Cain's sobriquet. Cain's blood had been running hot; now it cooled and his gaze slipped to the floor. "So that's what this is about," he said quietly. "Trying to engineer a reploid who can't Maverick. Trying to make up for my mistake- to erase original sin..."

He met his accuser's eyes. "Am I happy with how the Reploid Age has gone? No. Of course not. But if I had to do it all over again... I wouldn't do it differently, not the major things anyway, the important things. I don't expect you to understand this, but I regret nothing."

The roboticist scoffed and looked to Barnum. Barnum's eyes hadn't left Cain at any point. Only now did he turn to his team. "Dr. Cain has no grounds to speak here, as he is unlicensed. However- all of this discussion has given me an idea. If we transplant the Escape into this other body and link the two using their internal transmitters, the second reploid will dampen the Escape's signal enough that Colonel can coalesce and get to stage one."

Incredulous looks swept through the team, but before anyone could reply he went on. "That means we'll need some hard-coded additions to the transmitters on both ends. Joe, I need you to survey the second reploid to figure out where the Escape can fit. Start opening her up, and Duncan, get her schematics down here..."

"I'll be over here, out of the way," said Cain with weary cheer. He wanted to sit, but there was no chair free. Instead he leaned against the wall besides his Hunter escort and propped himself up with his cane.

"What just happened?" the Hunter asked.

"Politics," Cain replied, grinning like a fool. "Politics, and self-interest, and just enough altruism to make the difference."

The Hunter's face crinkled. "I don't think I like that," he said.

"Hunting is actually quite political," Cain pointed out unhelpfully. "You just don't realize it because it's mostly handled at the commander level."

"Thank Light for that," the Hunter mumbled.

Cain smiled. He looked back out at the bustling in the lab, and at the two reploids on the tables there. He thought about what their last names would be, if reploids had names that described their lineage.

"Yes," he agreed. "Thank Light indeed."

* * *

"Zero..."

"Who are you?"

"...my masterpiece."

"But... who are you?"

"After him! He is my nemesis. Our rivalry is what gives me motivation in life. Now go. Destroy him. That's an order."

"Wait- aghhh!"

Zero's sleep was not restful.

Elsewhere, someone was waking up for the first time.

* * *

_Other people matter._

Eyes opened, focused. A hand moved up- slowly, sluggishly; full power to muscle movement wasn't available yet. That would ramp up soon, but at the start of a newbuilt's life, a limiter algorithm kept it from flailing with inexperienced strength. The hand came up all the same, moved into the newbuilt's field of vision. It was a gesture that served dual purposes, calibrating optics and ambulation at once.

One by one fingers flexed. Good. Sight and touch agreed on their inputs, and verified both against movement logs- good again.

_Other people matter._

The sense of that, the meaning of it, was strong in her newly-formed mind. The need to find other people to care about was strong, too. And underneath... a purr. A soft, warm feeling, variable just enough for her to know it was dynamic. It was... familiar, even for a newbuilt whose wakefulness was measured in minutes. She latched onto it immediately.

Other people do matter, she agreed. There is another person here. That person matters.

She couldn't map this other-sense to sight or hearing. It didn't help that aural processing was still coming online; like muscle control, it started with limits and ramped up, lest it strain a newbuilt's sanity. She needed to shift perspectives, bring her eyes to bear. Her torso shifted up. Her world expanded.

A faint but growing commotion was coming from her right. First priority to check with her eyes. There was a group of forms there- human human human reploid human human. They mattered, she knew, but they were all focused on each other, so looking at them slipped down her priorities a little bit.

She scanned about, establishing her most basic awareness of the world. Her eyes fell upon two other figures- human reploid- that were focused on her. They deserved her attention in turn.

Empathy fired up full blast. First, the human. A hazy feeling- dictionary lookup: fatigue. Completeness with warmth- lookup: satisfaction (possibly contentment, approval). And from the reploid: surprise, amazement, confusion...

Her eyes opened and closed, trying to limit sensor input to manageable levels while she tried to map all the new and strange sensations coming at her from within and without. She only partially succeeded. So hard to tell which inputs were hers, which were others'...

She heard someone talking. The human. She hadn't had much processing power available to handle audio, so she missed the substance of it. She reallocated a bit-then a bit more as she brought vocal subroutines to bear. "Suh- ah- ree- Sorry," she said experimentally.

The human's face warped. Smile. "Good morning," he said. "Welcome to the waking world."

The human's- lookup: friendliness- resonated with her. She felt her mouth moving. She queried her emotion signifying subroutine. Ah, so that's how a smile felt. She was responding to his friendliness. The smile went into his processing and he reciprocated, which she felt... small-scale feedback loop. Invigorating, and a little frightening. Was there a limit to it?

"Thank you," she said, growing more confident in her ability to articulate. She wanted to preserve this strong, happy feeling. But... it was incomplete, she quickly realized. She found herself needing his designation. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Doctorcain," the human answered.

That was when she realized she didn't know her own name. She felt unsteady, unsettled- there are few things more miserable than a reploid who doesn't know her own name. "And what's my name?" she asked pleadingly.

Doctorcain put a finger along the side of his face. "Well, your brother has a very utilitarian name, a very literal name. Let's go with something more... flowery for you." He smiled. "Flowery... yes."

He gave her a name then, and she immediately recognized it as right and true and hers.

"Iris."

* * *

When Zero's tube opened, an unexpected sight was waiting for him.

"X," he said. "I was looking for your last night."

"I found you now," was the blue Hunter's reply. "Are you ready to go?"

Zero quickly cycled through emotions. First was elation- of course, always, and take _that_ , boredom! Second was wariness- something was suspicious about X approaching him like this. Last was confidence- his trust in X was slow to react, slow to come up in his mind, but it was decisive.

His face never moved. All he said was, "Where?"

"A meeting. Now before you beg out," X added quickly, "this is one I'm sure you'll care about."

"I've heard that before," Zero said with a hint of accusation.

"I know, so... here, let's talk while walking." X starting moving before Zero could think of a reason to disagree, so he was forced to fall into step with his fellow senior squad leader.

"Dr. Cain's been arrested again," X said.

"Okay," was all Zero could muster.

"That's not the reason for this meeting, but what he was doing is. He was arrested while helping GARRD."

Zero frowned. "Have I heard of them before? I feel like I have. Spell it out."

"Government Advanced Robotics Research Division."

To Zero's relief, a memory surfaced. "Ah... yes. I've seen those letters on some of the Mavericks I've killed. They were... average."

"Well... GARRD was working on a new product they needed Dr. Cain's help for. It's a high-end warbot they're calling Colonel."

"Colonel? As in the rank?"

"Yes."

"...we don't have colonels in the Hunters."

X laughed. "You know, I said the same thing when I heard. As it turns out, they didn't make him for the Hunters... ah, good morning, Commander."

Zero's head whipped around in the direction of X's gaze. "Sir," he said snappily.

"Morning, you two," was the tired but good-natured reply. Commander Paul Grant walked with a precision and formal posture Zero was tempted to call robotic. (He didn't because many reploids had started affecting slouches, for reasons Zero didn't begin to understand.) Zero knew why: he'd had a long career in positions that valued a disciplined appearance. Twenty years in the military, then twenty more in civil service, all in roles of increasing rank and public visibility. Five years of retirement hadn't destroyed that, and now here he was, recalled to service at the request of the Office of Reploid Relations. The government had asked him to provide one more tour of service, this time as the hand on the Hunters' leash.

Zero was proud of himself for remembering all of that. Ever since Sigma had gone Maverick, Zero had made it his business to know the Hunters' commanders inside and out. Luckily, tactical acknowledged the importance of the task, and had released precious uncorrupted memory space to support it.

Not too much- already Zero was forgetting even basic facts about the Hunters' second and third commanders- but enough for Zero to feel well-armed.

"Who's going to be at the meeting? Besides us," X said.

"This is it from the Hunters. Or did you mean from GARRD? Their technical lead will probably be there, a Mr. Barnum. He's not the one we need to watch, though. He just does what he's told. No, our concern needs to be with his bosses in ORR."

"Office of Reploid Relations," X added for Zero's benefit. Zero remembered that, at least, but he didn't tell X-having X remind him of things was vital, and he wanted X to keep doing it. "I suppose it makes sense," X went on. "ORR is in charge of GARRD and the Hunters. You'd think there'd be coordination there at some point."

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" Grant smiled. "Maybe if this was a high-functioning organization. But it's not. It's a government bureaucracy-which I can say, since I've been in government bureaucracy for forty years."

"No meritocracy?" Zero said with a frown.

"There is, just not the sort of meritocracy you'd think. Doing your job is only part of the job. The ones who can maneuver and articulate the best have a big advantage." He gave a wry smile. "It doesn't help that our actual best keep getting themselves killed."

"Haley Paschal," X said. The words were vaguely familiar to Zero, but he couldn't pin him down. The sadness in X's voice, though... that was familiar. He'd heard that before.

"Rest in peace," Grant said, seemingly to agree. "The point is that the current head of GAARD, Ms. Gerry-she'll probably be in this meeting-she got there by making promises to ORR. She promised to find a technical way to beat Maverickism. Now she's got to deliver on those promises. The pressure she's under is... intense."

"I'm glad to have you around," X said gratefully. "You're plugged in to the politics of Hunting a lot more than I am." That gave Zero pause. From his perspective, politics and organizations were X's arena, not his. If this was past X's expertise...

Zero couldn't decide if infinity or the abyss was a closer descriptor.

"Don't sell yourself short," Grant said. "I value your opinion on these matters. That's why you're here."

This was Zero's chance. "I have no expertise here," he said, "so I'll stay out of the way."

"But I need your support," X said. "I need someone to watch my back."

It was language Zero couldn't resist even though he couldn't see how it possibly applied. He stayed in formation.

"Here we are," Grant said. "Shields up, and..."

They went through the door. Zero spotted four forms waiting for them, two human, two reploid. The humans were... he didn't know, but he felt like Grant had explained it already, and it wasn't that important (he had X to handle that part). He focused, instead, on the reploids. One non-combat model; he dismissed it almost out-of-hand. The other deserved more careful consideration.

He was tall. His head armor was in the form of a hat that pushed his height up even more. He had running lights and vents throughout his build. As Zero looked more closely, he saw elements designed to maximize heat dissipation. On his shoulders were what Zero had to call spikes. His feet were heavily reinforced, but Zero's analysis suggested caution. The feet were well articulated, suggesting that they were meant for mobility and hard maneuvers.

This was a warbot, through and through.

He was sure X was taking his own notes on the warbot, but he resolved to share his observations later. If X was indeed preoccupied with the politics, that left Zero as the one to cover potential fighting. Zero would have it no other way.

Tactical dictated he take a second look at the non-fighter; even a reploid built for non-combat tasks was one weapon away from being a threat. He realized she'd been watching him the whole time. "You're all so worried," she said, appearing distressed herself. "It's because of us, isn't it?"

Zero saw that X smiled in answer. He couldn't bring himself to do the same. He nodded.

"I see," the non-fighter said, looking down.

"Don't worry about it," said the warbot, patting her on the shoulders. "Of course they're worried! We're a new breed of combat robot, and those two are Hunters. It's their business to worry about our kind."

"I'm not a combat robot," she said. "I can't even imagine..." she shook her head.

"We together are a combat robot," the warbot said, "but I know what you mean, and that's okay. It's simple division of labor. Those who were built to fight, fight. Those who weren't, don't. This is how it should be."

Zero wondered if the warbot would notice if he started charging a buster.

"This is all very cute, but we need to get down to business." The words were coming from one of the foreign humans. By process of elimination, this had to be the Ms. Gerry the commander had mentioned. She seemed... narrow, to Zero. Thin, small, she held her hands in front of her. The hands were constantly moving, clasping and reclasping. That was the only real movement, as her eyes moved more than her head moved. She reminded Zero of lawyers. Zero disliked her immediately.

"As you wish," said Commander Grant, and the humans sat. X did, too, by Grant's right. Zero took station behind and between them. Bodyguard position. He felt the warbot watching him; when he met the newbuilt's eyes, what he got was a nod of approval. Huh. Interesting programming in that one, if he really understood what he was seeing.

The non-fighter's eyes were wide, as if she were trying to watch everyone at once. It left Zero unnerved.

"First things first," said Gerry. "I regret to inform you that Dr. Cain has violated the terms of his probation. He was found at a GARRD facility. Incredibly, he had a Hunter escort. I'm not sure which I find more amazing- that he thought that made it okay, or that he was able to talk a Hunter into it. The Hunters, I was led to believe, were to act as Dr. Cain's jailors for the duration of his sentence. Imagine my surprise when they become his enablers!"

The sarcasm was thick enough for Zero to catch, meaning it was probably thick as tank armor. "I find it hard to believe Dr. Cain would have just gone out on his own," said Grant. "How did he happen to have access to a GARRD facility, by the by?"

The non-warbot spoke up. "Are we talking about the Dr. Cain that helped activate me?" All eyes were instantly on her. She shrank back. "We are, aren't we? Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything!"

"That explains some of it," Commander Grant said. "So, the two of you are GARRD products."

"That's right!" said the warbot. "Designed and built by the finest roboticists in the land to be the solution to the Maverick problem!"

X gave Zero a covert smile, which the Red Demon did not return. They shared a thought: If only it were so simple.

"I see," said Commander Grant. "That would explain the budget cuts we've seen. I couldn't fathom why they'd cut the Hunter budget while we were trying to rebuild from the Third Maverick War, but if funds were being diverted to set up Repliforce..."

"Who said anything about Repliforce?" Gerry snapped.

Grant gave a patient smile and looked at the newbuilts. "That is the organization you'll be part of, isn't it?"

"Don't speak unless I speak to you," Gerry commanded.

"What if I just want to know their names?" X said. "It's only polite."

Gerry looked daggers at X- for a moment Zero's threat assessment went up before subsiding. "Tell them your names," she said unhappily.

"I am Colonel of Repliforce," the warbot said boldly.

Zero had to laugh at the expression Gerry made.

"And you are?" X said to the non-warbot.

"Iris," was her meek reply.

"I'm glad to meet all of you," X said earnestly.

"I'm sure you are," Gerry said. Her expressions had been broad before; now they were minimal, below where Zero could tell what they were. Once more he looked to the reploids instead. The non-warbot (Iris?) was mimicking X's expression. Colonel had crossed his arms.

Ah!

So that's how it was. He understood. Colonel and Iris had the same dynamic as Zero and X. Colonel was the muscle, and Iris the control. Zero half-expected Colonel to move back into bodyguard position.

"Forgive my subordinates," Grant said. "They do love newbuilts. How can the Hunters help you today, Ms. Gerry?"

"The beans are already spilt, so here it is," said Gerry. "Yes, there is a new organization. It will be called Repliforce. GARRD will provide its reploids. It will be run as a parallel organization to the Maverick Hunters."

"Who in ORR is aware of this?" Grant asked.

"The minister, his deputy, and about a dozen others with need to know," Gerry replied, "along with the important members of the legislature, who approved the funding."

The words began to blur together; once more, Zero looked to the newbuilts. To his surprise, Iris wasn't paying attention to the humans, not the way X was. She was looking down. From time to time her eyes looked up and she ran them over every person in the room. Then her eyes dropped again. Instead, it was Colonel that was focusing on the humans.

"...to the Hunters..."

Zero's attention returned at the sound of the 'h' word. Grant sat back. "No, I won't accept cash in lieu of an Operator," he said. "If Iris was supposed to be an Operator for the Hunters, then that's what she will be."

"But she has a more important job, now," Gerry objected. "Now she's part of Colonel. Her primary function is ensuring he can do his job."

"That's important to you, sure, but it's not my problem," Grant shot back. "If you needed two bodies to make Colonel work, you should have planned better."

Gerry shot the other human a significant look; his head drooped. Gerry looked to Grant again. "Come on, what's one Operator to you?"

"If I wasn't having my budget cut out from under me left, right, and center, maybe I would be feeling more generous," Grant said. "But these days? If I say, 'No, I can wait for the next Operator to be built', what our bosses will hear is, 'I don't need another Operator', and then there won't _be_ another Operator. Honestly, Gerry, you know better than this. There are no freebies during budget cuts."

"Am I going to have to appeal to higher authority?" Gerry said.

"Hold on," X said. "Maybe I missed this, but why do you need Iris in Repliforce? Can't she be a Hunter Operator _and_ provide support to Colonel? What does she really need to do?"

Grant and Gerry both looked to X. Gerry spoke. "It doesn't matter. If she's supporting Repliforce, she needs to be in Repliforce."

"Why? What support is she actually providing?"

"Didn't I just say it doesn't matter?"

"But it does," X insisted. "You process hearing in the brain, but that doesn't mean your ear is part of your brain. If Iris-" and he looked at her, unlike anyone else who had spoken thus far, "-can do what she needs to help Colonel while still being a Hunter Operator, everyone wins. What do you think, Iris? Could you do that?"

Iris opened her mouth to speak, but then looked at Gerry, and shut her mouth again. "She remembers what you don't," Gerry said, "which is that she will speak when I wish her to, and not before."

X gave her what Zero called a Fully Charged Look. It buffeted Gerry. She sniffed, then looked to the other human- Barnum, Zero remembered dimly. "Well, Barnum? What does she really need to do to help Colonel?"

"Exist," Barnum said. "Stay tied to the global communications system. Her support to him is purely passive."

"I don't see why she can't be a Hunter Operator while doing that," Grant said.

"I... almost don't want her as a Hunter, then," X said, surprising everyone. "I know better than anyone how many Hunters we've lost. Operators included. If his functioning relies on her surviving... I don't know, maybe there's a library she can work at?"

Grant laughed. He was the only one. "That's a good one, X. But the reality is we can't afford to spare her. I'd use her as a field Hunter if I could, I'm so strapped for bodies, but I can't, and I especially can't given Repliforce's needs. There, Gerry, you want some generosity? My generosity is that I'll only use Iris as an Operator."

Zero knew X. He knew that squirm. That was Zero's cue to kill something, if he could figure out the right thing to kill. He couldn't, this time, which made _him_ squirm. He looked to Iris. She had the look of someone trying desperately to find cover and not succeeding. Colonel put a hand around her shoulders, which alarmed Zero- it looked like a prelude to an attack. It wasn't. Maybe he understood Colonel less than he thought.

"The Hunters will work with you," Grant said, more generously this time, "to ensure that Iris meets your technical needs. But, ultimately, she was built as a Hunter Operator, and that's what she will be."

"If that's alright with her," X said, but only Zero heard him.

"You have Colonel, we have Iris," Grant went on. "We'll forget the faux pas of you requisitioning Iris, you'll work with us to ensure Dr. Cain's release, and no one will complain about this to the ORR higher-ups. Do we have a deal?"

"It's not really a deal," Gerry replied. "There's no transaction here."

"You're just being contrary. Do we have an understanding, then?"

Colonel raised a hand before Gerry could answer. "What?" she said shortly.

Given permission, Colonel asked, "Will I still be able to see Iris?"

Gerry looked cross. "You feel her every second of every day. What more do you want?"

"I want to see her," Colonel said, unruffled. "Often enough to be sure she's safe, and well taken care-of."

"I'll facilitate that," X interjected. Zero nodded approvingly- typical X.

"How gallant," Gerry said, though Zero couldn't tell if it was sarcastic. "Sure. Why not?"

"Thank you," said Colonel.

Before Gerry could speak again, Iris raised her hand. Gerry sighed. "And what do _you_ want?"

"Sorry," she said, dropping her hand and looking down.

"Too late now, you might as well go through with it."

She looked up at X and Zero. "When I do join the Hunters, could I see you two again?"

The words didn't register for Zero at first, not fully. The second or third time the words ran through him, he realized she was looking at him- and that meant the words were meant for him, too.

She wanted to see him again.

Why? When? How? What? He was out of interrogatives before he had any answers at all.

She smiled at his confusion. "You're interesting," she said, as if she knew his question without his asking. "You make me feel safe."

If this conversation had happened, say, three weeks after Zero's awakening, it would have caused his already-broken brain to break. Nowadays he was older, if not necessarily wiser, and he'd developed some countermeasures.

As usual, those countermeasures included turning more of his mental resources over to tactical.

Consciousness retreated. Combat subroutines, always lurking, came to the surface. Force wasn't warranted, yet, so it focused on watching and evaluating. It watched and evaluated as the other people in the room moved, separated into small groups, and left. It watched how Iris' eyes stayed on him for an extended period, but probably not to target, so there was no problem. It wasn't until target-nontarget X was standing before him, calling his name in worried tones, that Zero did a soft reboot and came back to himself.

"I'm okay," he told X.

X visibly relaxed. "What happened?"

Zero had no answer. "I'm okay," he repeated, hoping it would be enough.

"Well," said Grant, stretching, "that could have gone better."

X continued to look at Zero, but when no more action came, he said over his shoulder, "I'll work on getting Dr. Cain out of jail. It won't be the first time."

"Good. I'll try to figure out a strategy for dealing with GARRD and... ugh... Repliforce." Grant shook his head. "At least we have a little time."

"Their socialization period," X agreed. "It's up to fourteen days now, isn't it? It's still not enough, but at least it's better than the ten it used to be."

Fourteen days, Zero thought achingly. What he wouldn't give for fourteen days of being told where he belonged, and what his role in the world was, and how he fit in with the craziness all around him. But then again, for him, it would probably take a lot longer than fourteen days. He'd be lucky if fourteen days was enough to answer a simple question.

A simple question like how did Zero, noted mass murderer and brain-damaged killing machine, make a non-combat newbuilt feel _safe_?

Fourteen days wouldn't be nearly enough, Zero despaired.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

"...I still don't get how you wrangled a spot in the Hunters, Joe," said a rabbit-themed white-armored reploid.

"They need a few humans around," Joe replied. "Like right here. Humor me, Jack. Say a human came in this visitor's entrance, and instead of me being here, there was some other reploid. Well, the human would go through the human-side security scan, right? And either you or this other reploid would have to man it."

"Right," said Jack, playing along.

"So suppose it's you, and when you go to do the scans, he says, 'Robot, per the Second Law, let me pass'. What'd you say to that?"

Jack scratched a spot between his oversized ears. It wasn't an itch, just a twitch. "I'd say, No, the security protocols were laid down by other humans more important than you. You can't override that. You're going through the scan or you're leaving here disappointed."

"Okay, fine, you broke the code. But it takes some quick thinking to get there, right? Not every reploid can manage that, especially not newbuilts. Besides, it makes the human visitors more comfortable. Humans have the Maverick Wars in the back of their minds all the time. And then the Hunters have a reploid in charge of determining whether or not a human's safe? Bad optics."

Jack's ears drooped down his head. "A human's a lot more dangerous to me than I am to a human," he said.

"So long as you've got the Three Laws, at least, but we both know that isn't- welcome to Hunter Base!"

The guards dropped their conversation as the door to the visitor's entrance opened. In stepped what was clearly a reploid built like a young female in a dress. The carapace was mostly blue with red highlights, and the reploid sported long unwieldy brown hair and a beret the same color as the 'dress'.

Jack, as the reploid part of the team, reacted. "Over here," he said in a professional's I'm-not-bored-no-really voice. "Step this way and stand on the scanner."

The visitor complied and stepped onto a large metal disc with a barrier in front (just in case). Jack pushed some buttons, causing three robot arms to emerge around the edge of the disc. They moved as Jack commanded, because they were the actual scanning elements. The old Maverick Hunter HQ had used fixed scanners, but as reploid design got wilder and wilder, that stopped making sense. While most reploids were humanoids, the remainder came in all shapes and sizes. Mobile scanners were a must.

"Hold still. Try not to be alarmed," Jack warned. That didn't keep the visitor from wincing when the scanners turned on. Jack didn't blame her; he'd felt them before. They'd made him dizzy, sent tingles through his motor control, and caused his self-repair to flood his innards with nanites that weren't actually needed. It was an invasive scan. The subject's comfort was not a design parameter.

Reploids would have complained about it more if they weren't so used to having no rights.

The visitor did a pretty good job staying still, so the scan went quickly. Jack checked the results- all good. He stopped the scanners before the rusted things caused her real damage. "Alright. Name of visitor?"

"Iris."

"Purpose of visit?"

"I'm not actually... visiting, exactly."

Jack looked up at that. She went on, "I know you're confused. What I mean is I'm supposed to work here now. Please believe me," she added, almost before Jack felt the surprise himself.

Jack looked to his partner. "Were we expecting this?"

Joe shrugged. "Sorta. There's a delivery of rookies later in the day, but it's through cargo deliveries, like usual."

Jack smiled nastily. "So rookies are cargo, eh? That sounds about right. Deadweight."

"You were a rookie not too long ago," Joe pointed out.

"And I was deadweight then. I'm just lucky I survived long enough to be less useless."

The words were designed to scare the newbuilt. Both guards could see it working. Joe took pity on her. "Do you have any paperwork or... anything?"

"No," she said, blushing. "I know you don't believe me, but please... oh! I'm here because Commander Grant wanted me as an Operator."

"The Commander, huh?" said Jack skeptically.

"Please believe me!" said Iris, appearing to grow distressed. "I'm not making this up. Ask X or Zero about it, they could tell you, they were there."

Jack laughed. "Zero's memory is a sieve. You picked the wrong guy to vouch for ya."

"I didn't know that," said Iris, appearing to shrink.

"And the both of them are a liiiiitle busy. I mean, you rattled off the names of the three most important people in the Hunters. Which means they have the most crowded schedules. It'll be tough to get them down here to check your story."

That made Joe thoughtful. "Actually, there might be a way. Let me see if I can reach Rekir."

Jack blinked. "What, Zero's second?"

Joe grinned. "That's what the org chart says, but the org chart doesn't know all the tricks. I'll try."

"Suit yourself."

"Sorry to be a bother," Iris said in a small voice.

"It's not a bother," said Jack.

"You don't believe that," Iris said. "You're bothered right now. Ooh," she said, squirming uncomfortably. "And it's getting worse. I'm sorry, I'll be quiet now."

Jack felt like he should say something, but this newbuilt was so volatile, where could he start? She'd turned away and was staring at the barrier. "What are you looking at?" he asked.

"I'm not sure how to answer that. I don't want to make you mad."

"Why would I be mad?"

"I don't want to look at anyone right now," she said, determinedly looking away. "Can I just stand here?"

Jack folded his arms. "You're gonna have a rough time in the Hunters if you have shyness issues."

"I'm not... shy," she said. "I don't know how to explain it. But I can tell it bothers you." She turned and looked at Jack again.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

She shifted. "I said it's not shyness. I'm okay with you looking at me. I didn't want to look at you."

Jack laughed. "I'm not that ugly, am I?"

"No, no, of course not," she said, and she managed to return his smile. "It's nothing like that."

"You keep saying all the things it's not. What _is_ it? Your brain still full from your socialization?"

"Sort of. And when I look at people, and hear them, it just fills my brain up more."

"That might be a problem. For the same reason shy people don't last around here." He gestured. "See all of this? Hunter Base looks big from the outside, and it's a little bigger because it goes a few levels down, but this is it. This is all the space we've got. There are a hundred and seventy Hunters in the seventeen squads who live here- well, on paper, it's really a hundred and fifty, there are always holes to fill. But that's just the Hunters themselves, not all the people you need to keep them in the field. So add in specialists, support staff, Operators, mechanics, gear monkeys, paper pushers, and a handful of security types like me... we'll figure four hundred and fifty call this place their home, and another buck fifty come and go. If you've got issues being around people, this place is gonna overclock you."

Iris' eyes were wide. She sim-swallowed. "You're trying to scare me," she said. "You're enjoying this."

"I am enjoying this," agreed Jack with a grin. "Is it working?"

"Some," she admitted.

Jack shrugged, though the grin remained. "Not that you actually need to worry. I mean, other than being completely surrounded, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Oh- Zero!"

All faces turned to the Red Demon as he entered. Joe did a silent fist-pump of triumph. Zero saw it but made no note of it. "Sir," said the Hunters.

"Hello, Zero," said Iris with a smile.

To the Hunters' surprise, Zero reacted. "You're... Iris."

"That's right," she affirmed. "Thanks for remembering me."

Joe and Jack shared glances. "Hey, sir," said Jack, "do you remember my name?"

Zero looked at Jack. His face tensed, twisted- and then he looked back to Iris. Jack's ears drooped. "You're done with your socialization, I see," Zero said to Iris. "So GARRD released you to us?"

"After a fashion," Iris said. "They drove me here and kicked me out of the car." She looked down. "They didn't care for me much."

"Jerks," said Joe.

Jack gave him a wry grin. "You can get away with saying scrap like that."

Iris looked puzzled for the moment before realization came. "Oh- because it's not safe for reploids to criticize humans, right?"

Zero nodded. "So you remembered something from your socialization. That's good. You'll need to learn and retain a lot of information to be a good Operator."

"Hopefully your brain doesn't fill up," said Jack with a barb only Iris heard.

It made Iris look pained. "More training? After the two weeks I just did?"

Joe laughed. "Newbuilts," he said. "Two weeks seems so long to them."

Zero frowned, but before he could speak Iris was bursting with words. "I'm sorry, I know that was the wrong thing to feel, I'll try to learn. I'll try hard! That's what you want, right?"

Jack was almost embarrassed. That kind of groveling was unseemly, even for reploids. Maybe especially for reploids. Still, it left no room for Zero to do anything but nod. "It'll do. Follow me."

"Hooray!" said Iris, with enthusiasm as cringe-worthy as her servility had been. Jack started when he realized that was his cue to drop the barrier. As soon as it was down, Iris was close on Zero's heels.

When the door shut behind them, the guard Hunters looked at each other. They didn't even need to speak to share their bewilderment.

* * *

"Alright alright alright," said Klaxon Crab, snapping with an oversized, hydraulic-driven claw to get the rookies' attention. As soon as they were focused on him, which was immediately, he withdrew the claw to expose a thin hand. "This isn't fight time, this is admin time—gather up. We'll be starting soon."

The rag-tag looking bunch, no two exactly alike, approached. It wasn't Klaxon's first processing day, so he knew what to expect from the newbuilt would-be Hunters. As usual, they looked slightly lost, a little intimidated, and a little wide-eyed, even though this was just the loading dock. "You'll be going through admin when we're ready, but first you've got to be sorted and processed. Your gear is coming in with you, there's enough for everyone—you can see the crates over there. We'll be getting into them after the sign-in. Armor kits, comms gear, and combat equipment are first, we won't get into the weapons until later—hey!"

"I can help with this," said one of the newbies over-eagerly.

"No—get away from there!" said Klaxon, his voice rising shrilly.

"Don't worry, I've got it, I've got—uh-oh…"

Crash!

"You dumbot!" shouted Klaxon. He rushed to the broke-brain newbuilt's side. "We use heavy lifters to deal with these, that's why I told you stop. Flame Mammoth himself couldn't handle one solo! Are you alright?"

"I think so," said the newbuilt. Up close, Klaxon could see that the rookie's bright yellow carapace looked intact. That was good.

"Come on, newbies, time to save one of your own," Klaxon shouted. What one rookie never could have lifted, ten were able to handle. Klaxon himself extracted the too-keen fool. "Rust me," he said, shaking his head, "your first day as a Hunter and you're already a casualty. Give me a damage report."

"I don't feel broken," said the yellow newcomer as he popped to his feet—and immediately tumbled. "But maybe I am," he admitted.

Klaxon sighed. "Let's try again." He offered a slender, claw-less hand to help the rookie up. There seemed to be no problem at first; the rookie's grip was strong and sure. As soon as Klaxon let go of him, though, he swayed and fell.

"Looks like my balance is shot," the rookie said, chagrined. "I… I think I've tumbled a gyro."

Klaxon gawked in disbelief. "What kinda garbage gyros you got? The only tumbled gyros I've ever seen are from Hunters who tanked big-time explosions, and they had much bigger issues than their gyros at that point."

"Maybe it's not a gyro," said the newcomer. He put a hand on the ground to help leverage himself up. Too strong—he pitched to the side, feet flailing. Klaxon would have laughed if it weren't so pathetic. "Or maybe it is."

"We don't do gyro repairs around here," said Klaxon. "We've got some good folks on staff, but most of 'em specialize in the outer layers. I'd send you to Doctor Cain, but he's out at the moment, and I don't know when he'll be back."

"Really?" said the newcomer. "Do you know where he is?"

"Not my business. Or yours," he added, but he almost felt bad. The newbie just wanted to know when he might be fixed. "Say… what's your name? I don't remember you on the roster…"

"Double," the rookie replied promptly.

"Who would name—you know what, forget it. Listen…" Klaxon wanted to crush Double's ego a bit, but the rookie had had a hard enough day already. No point rubbing it in by pointing out how far behind schedule they were going to be, and how hard Klaxon was going to have to work to put things back in order. What was the fastest way to make him someone else's problem?

"…I'm going to assign you to limited duty," he said, walking back to his datapad. He pulled up the appropriate form in a moment. "That'll keep you off your feet until we can get you fixed up."

"I'll be fine," sniffed Double. "I volunteered to be a Hunter, and I can—"

Splat.

"Limited duty," said Klaxon, in tones he hoped would get through that ridiculous yellow helmet the rookie was sporting. "You are not mucking up my rookie class any more than you already have. Head up to three-cee-twenty. The detailer will be getting the form any second now."

At last reality seemed to be setting in. With a sigh, the newbie's head drooped. "Yes, sir," he said. "Can you get me over to a wall?"

Klaxon helped move Double to the side of the bay. The would-be Hunter used Klaxon's help to leverage his body against the wall. Angling himself severely—almost 45 degrees—the rookie managed to take first one step, then another. "Okay," he said after a third tentative step, "I think I can make it like this."

Klaxon almost wanted to send one of the other rookies to go along with him, but a glance at the schedule put paid to that notion. "If you need trouble, just holler—lots of people around here like to help out." Which meant Klaxon wouldn't have to.

"Sure thing," said Double, setting out with a determined look on his face.

Klaxon turned away, putting the ill-fated rookie almost out of his mind. "Now, where were we?"

Double held his patience until he was around the corner and ten steps out of sight. He stopped, apparently to rest. His head pitched backwards and his eyes closed, like he was straining to hear some distant sound. Then he smiled and _pushed off the wall_.

If his smile had made a sound, the sound would have been a cackle. With confident strides he headed for the stairs.

Soon Klaxon would be sharing a message with the rookies, even though it was a message he himself had forgotten. _In a world of Mavericks, it's hard to be too paranoid._

* * *

"Congratulations," X said.

"What for?" said the surprised human.

"Well, you're in charge of the government's anti-Maverick efforts," X said to Mr. Green. "Up to now, that was mostly just the Hunters. Soon, though, it'll be the Hunters and Repliforce. Even if they don't promote you officially, that much extra authority is a soft promotion. I thought I'd drop by and congratulate you."

"Well, we don't know exactly how the org chart will look," Green replied with a false modesty X saw right through, "but thanks. I know that's not the only thing you wanted to talk about, though. You're on my calendar for the full half-hour. What's on your mind?"

"I've come to ask for Dr. Cain's release."

"Release?" said Green. "Who's holding him?"

"Abel City Police Department."

Green shrugged. "I'm not the boss of ACPD. I can't tell them to let him go."

"Except that they're holding him on request," X continued. "He hasn't been accused of any crimes, so per habeus corpus he should have been released by now. Someone is telling ACPD to hang on anyway, even though that's not legal."

"Sounds like you should go talk to them," Green suggested.

"I already did."

The air between X and Green got chillier. "Ah."

"And they told me they were holding Dr. Cain at the request of this office," X said more sharply. It was a bald thing to say, but X had given Green the chance to be honest on his own, and that had been squandered.

"He violated the terms of the agreement, see?" said Green, in a different voice from before. "The agreement _you_ negotiated years ago, if memory serves. For his own protection, and the protection of those around him, Dr. Cain was to stay in Hunter custody for the rest of his natural life. He was supposed to stay away from any new robot development."

"Which included design work," X countered. "Yet he had a charter- in writing!- from GARRD to do design work on Colonel. That wasn't the first charter, either. That was contrary to the agreement, but we all found it convenient to let it go. We all had our reasons. Dr. Cain was desperate for the work. GARRD needed the expertise. And me- I just wanted a long-suffering old man to be happy. And it worked out for everyone."

X leaned forward earnestly. "What happened with Colonel... it was the same sort of thing. No different in principle- the logical extreme of what was already happening."

"Nobody over the age of twenty-five thinks 'extreme' is good," Green said nastily. "Look here, if this was hush-hush that'd be one thing, but plenty of people know what happened on the fifth of May now. It's harder to pretend nothing happened with so many more witnesses."

"It's not harder at all," X said back. "It's not like we need to hide anything. The agreement was all internal within ORR, so it's our business and no one else's. Just tell ACPD to let him go. They have no charges to press anyway. I'll take Dr. Cain back to Maverick Hunter custody, and we'll all pretend none of this ever happened."

Green laughed. "You are one brazen little robot, did you know that? Or you think it's that simple. One or the other."

"Why shouldn't it be simple? GARRD agreed to that plan."

"Is that what they told you? I hate to break it to you," Green said insincerely, "but you see, sometimes, people _lie_. Someone out of GARRD is squawking all through ORR that Dr. Cain screwed up their Colonel. Of course no one can prove anything, but the message is out there, and it's a serious thorn in my side, see? I'm getting more and more blowback thanks to him."

"GARRD asked for his help!" X complained. "That's the only reason he left Hunter Base- blame them!"

"Look, I know my business," said Green, "but we're behind the curve now. Counter-messaging is much harder than prime messaging."

X got a flash of insight. The attitude, the verbal tics, the way Green's jaw never seemed to fully unclench... "Don't take your frustrations out on Dr. Cain," he said. "I know you're angry, but he doesn't deserve this."

"That... is open to interpretation."

X was at a loss. Whenever he spoke with someone, his entering argument was that the other person was reasonable. That argument didn't apply here. It left him feeling disoriented, and more than a little helpless. "What would make you less angry?"

"Look, this isn't about me being angry. I am angry, see, but that's not all there is. This is about messaging. I will punish Dr. Cain for his actions. My task is to decide what's the most useful, productive way to punish him."

"He shouldn't be getting punished at all," X protested.

Green laughed. "You're not going to find a single person in ORR who believes that. There are plenty who still think he should be punished for being the Man Who Allowed the Maverick Wars. That doesn't leave much sympathy for him at times like these."

X despaired. Was this the time, at last? Time to go scorched earth? He had one last option, held in deepest reserve for the direst emergency.

Sue ORR.

Accuse them of violating Cain's civil rights on a continuing basis for years. Blow up the agreement, which was tantamount to slavery anyway, and free Cain for good. It would work. X knew it would. He had all the arguments and precedents mapped out- he'd found out how humans were supposed to be treated when he was trying to determine how he wanted reploids to be treated.

Except- Cain's licenses were revoked. He was blacklisted, so there were no hopes for getting new licenses. Even more powerful, he carried the stigma of being the Man Who Allowed the Maverick Wars. If he were dismissed from the Hunters, he would never work in robotics again.

_They shoot horses that break their legs. It's an act of mercy. If an animal lives for a thing, then can't do that thing..._

Specialization might be for insects, but Cain was still an animal. Without robotics in his life, he wouldn't last a month.

Grimacing, X caved. "What sort of punishment did you have in mind?"

Green's face was pitiless. "I'm open to suggestions. You tell me what's appropriate here."

How cruel. X was torn- if he asked for leniency, he'd invite Green to overcorrect, but if he chose something too stringent he might as well shoot Cain himself... "No more charters," he suggested. "We'll cleave to how the agreement was supposed to work."

"Not good enough. That's happening anyway. Telling someone who's broken the rules to follow the rules isn't a punishment, any parent knows that. Hm... Dr. Cain does primary care for damaged Hunters, does he not?"

"Yes."

"Not anymore. We don't want to give him ideas that he's allowed to touch things."

"He's the only person on the planet who knows anything about Zero," X pointed out. "And he really is the best- there aren't many roboticists who can fix the badly wounded. None you can afford, anyway, what with the cuts to the Hunter budget."

Green grumbled. "Fine. He can do repairs to the most badly damaged, and to Zero. But I want most of the work out of his hands. Tell Grant he's got a week to tell me his plan to make up for this change. Inside his existing budget, see?"

"I see," said X, growing tired of the man's verbal tics.

"Good. Now scoot."

The dismissal was so abrupt and final that X was almost out the door before he noticed. He stopped in the doorway as things became clearer to him. "My congratulations weren't premature, were they?" he asked.

"Whaddya mean?"

X sim-swallowed. "Well, you _are_ going to be in charge of Repliforce, aren't you? Or am I presuming too much?"

Green's eyes narrowed. "I told you, we don't know what the org chart will look like. Not yet."

"They should give Repliforce to you," said X with some anxiety. "For unity of command if nothing else. It just makes sense."

"It would, wouldn't it? Now _scoot_."

This time, despite his rising dread, X had no choice but to comply.

* * *

Barnum looked down his clipboard. Check, check, check- Colonel was in prefect physical shape. Barnum had expected that; Colonel was a newbuilt, after all, a lavishly spoiled newbuilt. If anything was wrong with his physical parameters Barnum would have resigned out of shame.

Now, though, was time for more subtle evaluations, and ones more fraught with danger. "I don't think I asked before, but how do you actually feel Iris? Are you feeling the Escape's input?"

"I am," Colonel said. "I know it's necessary for me to feel that. But... it's a reading on the people that Iris is feeling at the time. She and I rarely see the same people, so it usually has no bearing on what I'm doing. So I tune it out as much as I can."

The innovation GARRD had been so proud of, _tuned out_ because it was actively unhelpful... yet another blow to Barnum's ego. They really had messed this all up.

Barnum spent a quiet moment indulging his sorrows, before a concerned look from Colonel forced him back into action. "What have you been working on?" he said conversationally. "Since your socialization period ended, I mean."

"I've been analyzing the Maverick Wars," Colonel answered. "Specifically, I've been comparing them to the small wars of mid to late 19xx. There are some telling differences between the approach the Hunters have taken and the way those wars were prosecuted. The Hunters are still treating this more like a law enforcement problem. They only go to a war footing when someone actually declares a war. We could improve on that, I think."

"Good," said Barnum. His pen flowed as he took notes. "That's the sort of thing we like to hear."

"Assuming we're properly staffed," Colonel said sternly. "Counter-revolution is a labor-intensive operation. We'll need far more soldiers for it than the Hunters have been using in their police-work model. I've submitted the number I think Repliforce needs- will that requisition go through?"

"Maybe," said Barnum noncommittally. "We do have a requisition in, and I used your numbers to modify the req, but who knows for sure what will happen? For what it's worth, I think you'll get the numbers you want."

"Good. You can't do this sort of thing understaffed."

"Speaking of staffing..." Barnum would have no better opportunity. He set his clipboard down behind him.

"Yes?" said Colonel gravely. He could see something significant was coming.

"One of the modifications to the req was to add in another officer."

"Hm..." said Colonel, putting a hand to his heroic chin. "Major, maybe?"

"Not exactly. General."

"General... a higher-ranking officer..." Colonel nodded. "Good."

Barnum blinked. "That's it?"

"What other reaction would I have?"

Barnum almost laughed as the tension left him. "I was worried you'd be upset or disappointed. I was worried you'd think it was a demotion, or some kind of insult."

"I value a strong chain of command. Duty demands I respect the officers appointed over me. And I'm not so old that I obsess over seniority."

Barnum sighed. "That's a relief."

"What did you think I might do?" said Colonel, almost warningly. Something in his voice worried Barnum.

"Nothing," he answered the reploid, casually as he could. "No, really- the concern was that you'd be so let down it'd depress your performance. I'm glad to see you're more resilient than that." The compliment worked; Colonel fairly preened. Barnum went on. "General will be the strategic head of Repliforce."

"Good! Better him than me. I'd prefer to be at the operational and tactical levels anyway, given my limitations."

"Limitations?"

"In my thinking," Colonel said, pressing a finger to his head. "I've seen your test results for me. I'm not as flexible or innovative as you'd hoped."

Barnum felt like the warbot had him, well, flanked. "And that knowledge doesn't bother you?"

"I'm not saying I _like_ it," said Colonel, "but if I have any weaknesses, I'd rather know about them. That will let me control my death better."

"Control your death," Barnum repeated, scarcely believing.

Colonel was frank. "I'm a soldier. My death is a given. What matters to me, truly, is how I die. When I die, I want it to be in a blaze of glory, not a cheap death where some twerp hits me in a blind spot."

"You seem... eager to die, for a robot with the Three Laws," Barnum said, unnerved.

"Not eager. Just prepared. Victory is the highest good. If I win and live, that's great. But my survival is not essential to victory."

And that, Barnum thought to himself, is why you need a superior officer over you. He realized belatedly that he hadn't been taking notes. A glance up confirmed that the camera was running. Good- he'd be going over this, in excruciating detail, soon enough. Preferably with Gerry present.

A new concern came to him. "Being so careless with your life..."

"Not careless," Colonel objected. "Just... not unreasonably attached."

"...that _approach_ , that lack of attachment, is going to harm Iris. Maybe kill her."

"I know," said Colonel. "That was our fate."

That gave Barnum pause. "I don't like the idea of fate." Especially not in robots, he added to himself. "Or at least, I don't like the idea of fate having agency."

Colonel gave Barnum a curious look. "But that's exactly what robotics is. Robotics is the science of creating a being that serves a purpose. A robot's fate is part of its design."

"Dr. Cain would disagree. He would say reploids have free will. He put a lot of work into breaking fate." And your approach, he thought, is so extreme that I'm arguing Dr. Cain's point of view and it _makes sense_.

"He failed," Colonel replied. "Everything that I am is built for one end. My brain included. That's why I know. You filled my memory with military history, and my takeaway from it is that there's always fighting. Even today, there are flare-ups from Mavericks globally. Abel City just happens to be ground zero. If there's fighting- and there is- then soldiers will die. I am a soldier. Therefore, sooner or later, I will die. And so will Iris."

And there's another reason you're not fit to be commander, Barnum thought. "Well. In the spirit of helping you control your death... when I put my report together on you, I'll send you a copy."

"I'd appreciate that," Colonel said.

I bet you would, thought Barnum- but, as usual, nobody had asked him his opinion.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

Double opened the door. "Is Rekir here?" he asked.

A pale, slender reploid answered. Its surface seemed porous, as if it had openings or attachments for something that wasn't on his person. "He is, what do you..."

"Nope! You're doing it wrong!" interrupted a voice from inside.

The slender reploid sighed. "Good grief! When did you start standing on ceremony?"

Double blinked. "Ceremony?"

"The sign."

Double looked around the outside of the door. Oh, there it was- it had seemed so informal he'd overlooked it at first. It read:

**ASSISTANT SQUAD LEADER'S QUARTERS**

KNOCK  
STATE YOUR NAME  
REQUEST ENTRY

It looked like a recent addition. Tape held its corners down.

"Should I-" began Double.

"No," said the slender reploid. "The sign is... ugh. Don't worry about it. I'd take it down, but the last time I did it mysteriously reappeared." His last words were a shout back into the room. Looking at Double, he added, "So come on in."

"Look," came the voice from inside the room, "if you don't defend our turf, no one will."

"It's not our turf anyway," said slender as he reentered. Double followed him.

"It's our rank on the sign, isn't it?"

"The sign you put up."

"It's not my fault these are temporary quarters. We used to have..."

"Here we go," said the slender reploid with a roll of his eyes. "Azzle Rekir's Good Ol' Days."

Azzle- that, Double decided, had to stand for Assistant Squad Leader. Which meant that the speaker was Rekir- and that made Double look twice. Was that really him? He looked so... generic. He was a standard-looking humanoid in green armor. If he had any special features, Double couldn't see them. For all Double knew he'd already met Rekir around Hunter Base, and hadn't given him a second glance.

"You're Rekir?" he said, to confirm.

"That's what the builders called me. And the miscreant who let you in without knocking is Altern, who made Azzle... what, two weeks ago?"

"Three," said Altern defensively. "When our numbers recovered enough to reestablish Sixth Squad."

"See, that's just it," said Rekir. "You weren't an Azzle before the Third Maverick War. If you had been..."

"Here it comes," said Altern to Double.

"...you'd know how nice it is to have a room with a door," Rekir continued. "I used to be able to play my trombone without bothering anyone. Now? People whine. They even whine after I play when I _know_ they were in the tube while I was playing. They whine on principle."

"Why don't you have a room anymore?" Double asked.

"Don't encourage him!" hissed Altern, smacking Double in the shoulder. Double's hands jerked up in belated defense, but he forced them back down.

Given the opening, Rekir kept talking. "I had a room in the old Azzle dorm. It was a lot like the Squad Leader's dorm is now. But then the Third Maverick War happened, and someone..." Rekir gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like 'X', "...decided to fight one of the big mechs right over the dorm. I understand why, it makes sense- we were all turned out, so there was no one there. No collateral casualties. Still, it wrecked our home. Now we're jammed into two hallways with a couple of common rooms."

"That's a lot like what the squads have," Altern pointed out.

"Exactly! So it's a downgrade for the Azzles. If I have to put up with an Azzle's workload, I at least want my own room."

"Just accept promotion already. You've got the time in service for sure."

Rekir smiled craftily. "That's not happening. Don't ask me why, but I've got my reasons."

Double nodded. "So you've been working with Zero for a long time, then."

"Since before the First Maverick War."

Double's eyes widened. "Wow! That's back when Sigma was still Commander!"

All humor left Rekir. "Don't talk to me about the Traitor."

He managed, somehow, to pronounce the capital letter. Double's mouth opened, but then he folded in contrition. "Sorry, sorry... I didn't realize you had a short there."

Altern jostled Douglas' shoulder. "Don't worry about it. He's just giving you the Old Grumpy Bot routine. Even though he's not that much older than I am, he just came to the Hunters earlier. And Signas is younger than any of us, and they're talking about standing up a whole new squad just so he can be its leader."

"He can have it," said Rekir. "I don't want it. Look, I'm not trying to be grumpy. I just want a door. Apparently that's too much to ask for. So if I can't have a door, I'll set up something that's close. Assuming I get even a little help, anyway," he finished with a dagger-stare at Altern.

"I'm not going to apologize," said Altern. "You got used to your luxuries, and now that you don't have them you make funny noises. That works for me. Rekir, our guest is already inside, so let's stop being rude to him. What's on your mind..."

"...Double."

"Double... you're new here, aren't you?"

"Very. I'm helping out the Operators and admins for now. That's why they sent me down. A request came in for Zero, but the admins told me to find you instead."

Rekir huffed. "Figures. What kind of request?"

"Have you heard of GARRD?"

"I haven't," said Rekir. He looked at Altern. "You?"

"Yes, actually," said Altern. "They're a government-run research lab for high-end reploids. I don't know what they'd want from Zero, though."

"They want a spar," Double said. "They've got a new fighting reploid they want to pit against Zero."

Altern scoffed. "Are they serious? Do they know about Zero?"

"They did ask for him by name," Double said.

"No, I get that, but... it's Zero! Sudden-Death Man! The Red Demon!"

Rekir grinned. "Someone's a little traumatized."

"I'm not traumatized," Altern said, defensive again, "I just know what he can do first-hand."

"That's right. You were part of that training exercise. How long did you last again?"

Altern bashfully put a hand behind his head. "Uh... about seven seconds. Don't laugh, how long did _you_ ever last against him?"

"How stupid do I look?"

"Just stupid enough."

"Okay, so maybe looks are deceiving. The point is, I've been Zero's Azzle for years. I've never felt even the slightest urge to push my luck."

"Well," said Double, "it's what GARRD wants. Even if you know it's one-sided, they want it. The question I was sent to ask is, does Zero want it?"

Altern looked at Rekir. "They're asking you what Zero wants, huh?"

"I know better than anyone. Plus, like I told you, I do the scheduling and paperwork for Zeroth Squad, so I can tell you if we can support it. That's the arrangement Zero and I have. It's how we both want it." Rekir's voice was much the same as before, but he was no longer cheery.

"Wow," said Double, impressed. "Zero really relies on you, doesn't he?"

Rekir frowned.

By any reasonable expectation, Rekir should have long-since been killed in action. His physical capabilities were nothing special, and Hunters died (or rebelled) all too frequently. He'd outlived generations of peers, and those peers' successors were at a loss to explain it.

Privately, Rekir credited three reasons for his improbable longevity. First, he clung tightly to Zero's coattails. Second, he had enough luck to make an Irishman jealous. Third, he had a naturally strong survival instinct, honed to razor sharpness by years of combat.

That instinct was trilling at him now.

Rekir sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. It made Double suddenly self-conscious. "Did I say something wrong?" the yellow reploid asked.

"No," said Rekir. "I don't think so. Tell me more about this request. It just doesn't sound right."

Double shrugged. "I don't know much more than what I told you. GARRD asked. Commander Grant said he'd ask Zero, and now he's asking."

"Ohhh," said Rekir, "so this is a request from the Commander?"

"I wouldn't put it like that," said Double. "I don't know all that's going on, but the word 'politics' keeps coming up."

"Uh oh," said Altern. "That's a buster with no safety."

"You beat me to it," Rekir said. _Politics_. Asking for a spar with someone of Zero's level... no, that was the wrong way to think about it. No one else was on Zero's level, except maybe X. Rekir knew that better than anyone, but plenty of people knew Zero by reputation. Certainly people in anti-Maverick circles. What was going on, then?

Politics. There was a reason for this that Rekir just couldn't see. It was like a trap set by Mavericks. Rekir knew the ambush was there, he just couldn't see when or how or where. But this was coming from Commander Grant. If he was anything like Rekir, he knew the best way to deal with a trap: throw Zero into the teeth of it, let him make a mess, and pick up the pieces afterwards.

"Well, no one can hold Zero back from a fight when one's offered," Rekir said truthfully. "He'll go for it. I'll look at the schedule and see when he's available."

"Thank you," said Double. "I'll take that answer back to the admins."

"Alright."

Double started looking around. "Is there... um..."

"What?"

"...a sign that tells me how to leave?"

"No, you just go," said Rekir.

"And try not to die out there," pitched in Altern.

Rekir shook his head as the door shut. "You don't have to try and scare him."

"The senior Hunters made sure I was scared. I'm just paying it forward."

"I liked you more when you were like a basset hound in armor," said Rekir, but his heart wasn't in it. His instincts were all a-thrum. Something wasn't right. The conversation bothered him, and the worst part was he didn't know why.

_Maybe Zero will figure something out when the spar happens._

_Wait a minute. I'm counting on Zero for something other than killing stuff._

_Yeah, right._

* * *

"...if the footage is any good, then we'll be using it for the 'casts," the human was saying, but Zero barely noticed. He was uninteresting, and he was talking about uninteresting things. Zero was focused on his opponent. Even Iris, watching in the background, was beneath his consideration.

He'd seen Colonel before, had seen him move a little bit, and had done his initial estimation. It was a rough cut at best. Walking around was completely different from moving at combat speeds. Any more data he could glean would be helpful. Exhibition or not, Zero did not intend to lose this fight.

Colonel was bigger than Zero and more massive, that much was obvious even without detailed modeling. But then, Zero's enemies usually were. The question was whether or not Colonel could control that mass and use it. If he didn't, Zero would use it against him.

"Here you go," the human said, gesturing to a long piece of metal. "We can't have you dicing each other up with beam sabers, now can we?" Zero took the faux-sword. The imbalance of it offended him. He said nothing, which gave the human a chance to ramble on. "Plus it'll look better on the 'cast. Any last questions about the rules?"

Zero hadn't realized there would be rules. He saw that Colonel was looking at him, patiently and expectantly. Their gazes met. Colonel even smiled.

They understood each other, Zero thought. There would not be rules- at least, no rules set by anyone else. The fighters would do as they pleased. This was between them.

Zero stepped forward with the "sword" at the ready. Colonel flourished his version and advanced. As the newbuilt approached, he commanded all of Zero's attention. This was the point, he knew, where X would be entering combat mode.

Zero was already there. Always.

While Colonel was still approaching, still walking, Zero charged forwards. Colonel swung into his attacker- either he'd expected this or his reflexes were superb. Zero saw it early and shorted his lunge, swinging not for Colonel but to influence his weapon. Batter it out of the way, then strike home- except that the impact (with a deafening clang and a shriek from Iris) left neither bot with an advantage. Zero pushed back to break the clinch and reset. Without hesitation Colonel swept in with a broad swing- wide arc, max torque. It was the sort of strike Zero might have exploited, except that he was moving backwards and he decided not to stop himself. Instead he took another step backwards, clearing the arc of the metal. It passed right before his eyes. He planted to begin a new charge.

Colonel hadn't stopped!

His shoulder, and the large spike atop it, were lowered now, as Colonel morphed his swing into a bull rush. Too close to dodge or swing against, so Zero lowered his own shoulder and smashed against Colonel's torso below his arm. In his head, Zero swapped his right arm to buster and shot Colonel twice, disabling his leg; in reality, he hesitated to see what Colonel's next move would be. That move was to twist like a wrestler to throw Zero down. Zero tumbled, boosted to clear away from any follow-up, and whirled.

Now a little bit of range was back, enough to pause. When Colonel took up his stance again, Zero saw something.

A smile on his face.

With surprise, Zero realized he was smiling, too. That's when it came to him: he was having fun.

Colonel darted forward again, mass belying grace. Experimentally Zero tried to disengage and draw away. Colonel pounced, pressed. Back to close combat. Their cudgels collided with such violence it shook their bodies. The reverberations filled the room with a cacophony of clashing metal. Zero matched him, blow for blow, chasing no advantages and letting Colonel try to push him around.

If he'd been trying to kill Colonel, he knew, he wouldn't be fighting like this. Tactical noted that this was negative training. Yet Colonel was still strong and skilled enough that matching him was a challenge of its own, one Zero relished. And Colonel was trying so hard, and smiling—he had to feel the same.

Zero ducked under the next strike and lashed out with a leg, whirling to sweep away Colonel's plant foot. The other warbot lifted the foot instead, avoiding the attack, before stepping into a mighty downward stroke. Zero met it halfway with a rising block, locking them into place again. Zero knew he could slide away to the left, into Colonel's blind side, and bring him down.

But then the spar would be over. That was unacceptable.

This felt right. This felt good. This wasn't a spar with X, which was always fleeting, always over too soon. This wasn't a Hunt, which was a guilty pleasure, or a war, which was too stressful to truly enjoy. This...

If this went on forever, Zero could be happy.

Instead he broke away and let Colonel chase him. Colonel's style, Zero decided as they danced, was one of directed aggression. He didn't appear to contemplate other approaches. Zero was okay with that. He could maintain against that indefinitely. He shifted to a defensive footing and welcomed Colonel in. And he laughed.

* * *

"Good grief, is that a smile?"

"Let me freeze a frame. There, and a zooooom... Whoa. That smile makes every other smile feel better about itself."

"Look at those canines! It's like an animal. That's creepy as hell."

"I know Zero's supposed to be this great hero and all, but..."

"I know what you mean. I get Mega Man, at least."

"X."

"Mega Man X."

"Fine."

"The point is, I get him, kinda. The news coverage of him makes him sound like a nice guy who was pushed too far. I can get that. This guy, though... something about him just feels wrong. I've never heard of _him_ doing any interviews."

"Ever feel like they keep him away from us media types on purpose?"

"Maybe- whoa! That was pretty."

"Who's winning?"

"I don't think anyone's winning. If someone is I can't tell. They look even across the board."

"Yeah, I gotta admit, I didn't think Colonel could hang with the Red Demon. GARRD hit a home run this time."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

"Huh? Aren't we seeing it now?"

"This is a spar. It doesn't count."

"Whatever you say. Look, we've got enough footage, and the right kinds of footage. GARRD will be happy with this. We can stop now."

"Alright, I'll send the signal."

* * *

A horn blared out. Zero paid it no mind. Irrelevant.

Opening! Strike-

Colonel wasn't moving. Why?

Zero froze just before his weapon hit home, though it was close enough that Colonel flinched. "Why'd you stop?" Zero asked.

"That was the signal to stop," Colonel said with a step backwards. "Don't you remember?"

Zero embraced his disappointment to hide his embarrassment. "It's over, then?"

Colonel laughed. "We could have fought like that forever, I think. Or at least until we ran out of power and shut down."

Zero looked at the useless metal in his hands, dented and damaged from the force of the blows. Much more and it might have given way. There was, he realized, no way the spar could have gone on as long as he'd hoped.

Already he could feel boredom on the edges of his awareness. Already he hated it. "I wish we could've gone on fighting," he said bitterly. "We need to do this again."

"Sure."

Zero blinked, caught off-guard in a way that couldn't have happened in battle. "What?"

"I have duties that need attending to," Colonel said reasonably, "and they must be first priority, but when they're not in the way? Yes, I want to spar with you as often as possible."

The words were having a hard time sticking in Zero's mind. "Really?"

"Of course!" roared Colonel happily. "Fighting at the highest level is my whole reason for existence, and you provide me the best fight I could hope to find. It's an honor to test my skills against you, a Hunter of legend."

Zero smiled like a kid who's just realized the ice cream truck is stopping for him. "I'll spar with you any time you want," he promised Colonel. "I don't get to have fun very often, and this qualifies."

"I'm glad to hear that. You have my respect." At that, Colonel raised his saber before his face, then dropped his hand to his waist, wrist out, sword-tip nearly on the ground.

The gesture puzzled Zero. That position was not a fighting stance; it was all wrong. It must have some other meaning. Looking at Colonel it was clear the newbuilt expected a response, but a frantic search of Zero's memory revealed nothing. This wasn't something he'd ever needed to know.

"Do I not have your respect yet?" Colonel said, half-disappointed, half-angered.

"You do," Zero replied- he was getting good at guessing which answer people wanted when they gave him binary questions.

"Then why won't you return my salute?"

The word 'salute' was practically a foreign one. It took a noticeable time to call it up—and when it came, it occurred to Zero that he'd never saluted anyone. Colonel was expecting him to do something outside himself.

The sense of out-of-place, of unbelonging, of embarrassment swept through Zero. It was never far away, and now it surged through his mind. Every sense of rightness he had built up during the spar vanished. It made him want to-

No.

His body tensed as pseudo-muscles tried to push and pull in opposed directions. The net effect was that Zero expended great effort to not move. No, he reminded himself again. Iris moved into his field of vision- double no.

Then what was he supposed to do?

Don't know. Do nothing.

Colonel's wrist twitched, bringing the sword closer to a fighting posture—Zero recognized _that_. "I thought we understood each other," he growled.

Iris' voice cut in. "Don't stress-test him, brother. He's doing his best."

The warbots looked at the empath, who smiled brightly. "You like each other a lot! You both had fun from that spar. You have a lot in common." Her laugh was a tinkling sound. "I suppose you'll get in tiffs like this- it's just who you are, you can't help yourselves. Just remember not to take it too seriously. You'd hate it if you couldn't get along."

Colonel's expression softened. He nodded affably. "You know best," he said. "No hard feelings," he added to Zero.

Zero couldn't respond so easily. He felt... stripped. Exposed. Like his armor had fallen off and she could see his inner workings. He wanted to protect himself, and couldn't, not against...

What _was_ she doing to him?

He tried to define it, came up empty, and threw the problem to his comparative subroutine. Comparative offered up X.

The thought shook Zero so seismically that self-protect punted it to memory to consider later. Combat mode was still engaged, after all, and it had priority for resources.

Then again, it always did.

"I'm not a danger to you," Iris said, looking at Zero with eyes he found piercing. "But you know that- that's why you're so confused. That's okay. Your confusion is safe for me."

It felt false and true at the same time. Zero couldn't deal with it. He turned, hair flicking, and walked away. Flight, he reflected, was a tactic even he had to use sometimes.

* * *

"This isn't the first time I've had to pick you up like this," X said. Dr. Cain didn't reply. He was busy handing in his orange jumpsuit. The warden behind the counter took it and began giving back Cain's personal effects. X waited until Cain had pocketed the last, leaving Cain out of excuses. The cane was the final item; Cain visibly sagged onto it when he had it. X helped him get started, and together they walked for the exit to the jailhouse.

"You're like the drunk friend who keeps getting tossed in jail," X went on, "and I'm the responsible friend who..."

"That's not funny," Cain snapped.

X's smile died. "Sorry. I was practicing humor."

"Don't feel bad. It's a sore spot for me, but I don't think you knew. When I was young- well," Cain looked down at himself, "young _er_ , I got discouraged from time to time. When I got too discouraged, sometimes I would seek chemical relief. I'd drink," he clarified with a glance at X. "Never too heavily, I had control enough for that. But consistently. I started off by drinking when I was deeply discouraged. Then I started drinking whenever I was a little bit discouraged. Then I started getting discouraged all the time. Eventually I admitted that I was drinking when I wasn't discouraged. At that point, there was nothing to keep me from drinking all the time. So I did."

"I understand, I think," X said. "I can't relate directly, but I can imagine."

The look Cain gave was sympathetic. "Oh, X, I know how you want that to be true. You're very sincere. But the truth is, you _can't_ understand just how... powerful, how... subversive addiction is. It's a hook in the brain. It's this pull in your head that you know is external, but it's real and you at the same time, and it has a hold of you, and even if you know you don't want it you also do. Addiction steals your mind away from you."

"You stole it back, though," X objected. "I haven't seen you take a drink in the whole time I've known you." He gave Cain a mock-stern look. "You haven't had Hunters sneaking booze into Hunter Base, have you?"

"No. I've been insufferably sober for years. Since I dedicated myself to finding you, actually- it was too much of a liability, given how dangerous a game I was playing."

"Good for you! You beat it, then."

"See, this is the part..." Cain sighed. "You know about backdoors, right? After a hacker penetrates a system, he installs an easy way for him to get back in another time. I'm still addicted, X. The backdoor's still there. I'm an alcoholic to this day. I just happen to be sober right this second."

X opened the door to the Hunter van. The step-up was high, designed for combat reploids rather than creaky old men, so X boosted Cain up. The man leaned back and closed his eyes while he caught his breath.

"Aren't you going to buckle up?" X asked.

"Huh? Oh." Cain complied, slowly. "Sorry. It's been a while."

X started the van and pulled away. He made sure he was safely in the flow of evening traffic before he spoke again. "You never told me about this before," he said.

Cain shrugged.

"Don't do this, Dr. Cain. You always have a purpose in mind when you say or do something."

"Now who's parsing everything?"

"I wouldn't have to parse if you weren't being so obtuse. It's just us in this van. No one's listening in."

Another shrug. "I wanted to point out how debilitating it can be to have that kind of problem. It's hard going through life with a crippled brain. There's no hidden meaning here. It just came up."

X cocked his head. "That'd be unusual for you. It's not the truth. I'm not as strong an empath as Iris, but I'm a pro at reading patterns. You've been thinking about this a lot. The words flowed so easily."

Cain clammed up.

X thought about it while he navigated a turn. "Even if I can't relate to addiction," he said, slowly, "I know who can. Colonel and Iris. You inflicted a form of addiction on them. They're addicted to each other. Their connection is the very definition of a backdoor in the brain."

That was safer ground. "It's a little different for them because it's unequal. Colonel can't function without Iris. Iris technically could. Of course, she'd have to survive losing the link first. Going cold turkey from that, traumatically, instantly? She'd be lucky to stay sane, if worst came to worst."

Emotion began to rise in X. "They're both in combat-related occupations! That's a very real risk they're running. And you willfully set that up for two reploids..."

"No."

"...huh? What do you mean?"

"Iris is a reploid," said Cain, wringing his hands, "but Colonel is not. I don't know what I'd call him, but he's not a reploid. To me, he's missing some vital properties..."

"And that gives you license to do whatever you want?" X said hotly. "He isn't a reploid, so you're free to act?"

Cain rested back in his seat. "Jail took a lot out of me. We can talk more later."

X steadied himself before replying. "Now you're getting evasive. You only do that when you're not sure you made the right choice. If you were sure you'd be spitting venom at me."

Cain frowned as X took a turn. "Are we driving in circles?"

"We can't go back yet," X said. "I need your tongue free. I will know the truth."

Cain harrumphed. "Then we might be driving for a while, because you've got it all wrong."

X kept his eyes out the front. "I've been trying to understand why you'd do that to Colonel. What did he ever do to you? He hadn't even been activated. It's like you were so angry they changed the design... No, no, that's not how you operate. Too spiteful. You'd never let that drive you. It's the opposite: you care for your creations. You're bad at showing it, but you do. So when you did this, you'd have to think it was somehow good for Colonel."

Cain turned in his seat so he was facing away, out the window.

"Did you expect Colonel's boot-up to fail like it did? You must have expected it to fail somehow. You had a Hunter standing by to drive you to GARRD. You knew this was coming- knew _something_ was coming. Did you project that exact failure mechanism?"

Cain leaned against the window, hard, and jammed his eyes closed.

"I'll take that as a yes. Either way, you had time to plan. You designed this fall-back in advance. What you did to Colonel was more than willful. It was premeditated. But... you premeditated _this_? You had all that time to think of a solution, and that's what you came up with? After hearing the way you talked about addiction, it must have been agony for you to foist that on someone, especially someone you cared about."

"I'm trying to sleep, X."

"There isn't any upside for Colonel. It's pure liability. That would explain why you're so conflicted."

"I don't want to be here," Cain said. "I want to go to Hunter Base."

"Not yet."

"I won't answer your questions, so I don't need to be here. You can ramble about on your own time. You don't have to hold me hostage for that."

X didn't acknowledge the words. "What higher purpose is there to crippling Colonel? There must be one if you weren't trying to help Colonel personally."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"What am I doing?" X asked. "I'm just thinking out loud. I know how to use silence, Dr. Cain, and you're using it wrong. You're just letting me go. I'll keep going until you speak- I've got all night."

"I won't!"

"Why not? Can't you trust me?"

"Probably only you," Cain was forced to admit.

"Then tell me why. Why? Why cripple two brains like this?"

"Colonel was already crippled," Cain muttered.

"You said that- crippled by the change to his design. Your design, the design you wanted to use to advance robotics..." X's eyes widened. "Colonel wasn't a one-off, was he?"

"He was supposed to be the prototype," Cain said miserably. "All Repliforce was going to be based off of him."

"But they won't be now," X said carefully. "The only way GARRD knows to make Colonel work is impractical for full-scale production. No one would sign off on a breed of brain-conjoined twins. Your fix to Colonel... it was _sabotage_."

Cain began to cry.

"And that means all of your tech advances, the miscegenation you wanted... it'll get rolled back, too. They'll use standard reploids to fill Repliforce's ranks." X's voice was awed. "Dr. Cain, you prevented robotics from advancing. That's your very highest ideal, and you thwarted it! Why? I've got to know!"

"I couldn't let them do it to anyone else!" Cain said as tears rolled down his cheeks. "They made it so Colonel can't grow much, can't develop. He's static, now, when no reploid is. He's no reploid, they made him something else. Something... less. Don't you see? All Repliforce was going to be like that! GARRD was willing to make reploids retarded in a foolhardy attempt to make them safe. I couldn't let that happen. Couldn't! It's not fair to reploids to have that gift of mind- that precious gift!- compromised."

He looked down. "It would mean everything I wanted- everything I thought I was doing by building reploids... Reploids were my great gamble, you see. I wagered that giving robots free will was more important- a higher good- than guaranteeing their loyalty." He trembled. "I can be the Man Who Allowed the Maverick Wars. I can deal with that- but not if I was wrong. Not if reploids were a mistake."

His eyes looked to X. "Am I wrong? Was I wrong?"

The van came to a stop. When its engine ran down, there was no sound.

"You are no son of mine," X said, "but I am very proud of you."

Cain's head jerked in surprise. Then his eyes widened with recognition. "You magnificent bastard," he breathed. "I said those words to you, once upon a time."

"They meant a lot to me," X said, before suddenly turning sheepish. "Did they work? It's hard for me to know sometimes."

Cain sniffed. "Did you actually mean it, or are you just trying to make me feel better?"

X sighed. "Just for once, don't parse. What did the words mean on the surface?"

Cain shuddered. "That might be... no, it _is_ the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

The van's headlights timed out and turned off. It was dark as well as quiet.

"I would have helped you," X said. "I think your actions were correct. If you'd have asked, I would have helped. You didn't tell me. You never do."

"You did help me, though," Cain said. "When you came down and we talked, your words... they told me I was right. After we talked, I was confident enough to actually... go through with it. And even then, I doubted. You were right about that, you damnably clever machine."

"And you still didn't tell me." X shook his head. "I wish you would have."

"If I promise I will next time, will you let me go inside and sleep?"

X thought he saw the slightest of smiles at the edge of Cain's mouth. Things were going to be fine, he decided. He would tell the doctor the new limitations on his freedom later. Tonight was about closure. "Sure. Let me help you get down."

As X circled around the outside of the van, Cain whispered, "You've helped enough."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

"...Now let's look at Fourth Squad," Alia said.

Iris' hands froze above her console. "But I thought we were working with Fourteenth," she objected.

"Parallel processes, remember?" Alia chided. "Fourth is in transit right now, so we can let them be for a moment. Time to move on. This workload is nothing, by the way. When things get really active, with every squad in the field, that's when we're really pushed to our limits. I've had to juggle seven squads' actions before. That's full squads, mind you, not these four-Hunter cells."

"I know that makes you proud, but I'm not ready for that yet," Iris said.

"I wasn't bragging," Alia said, taken aback even as part of her admitted that maybe she was. "I was pointing out that you have to be able to split and ration your attention. It's a big job, you often have no help, and there's a lot to think about at once. The sooner you get used to that, the better. So take us over to Fourth Squad."

Iris put her hands to the console's controls. About that, Alia noted, she was a quick study. She didn't know all the console's tricks yet, but she was competent. That was more than Alia could say about Iris' performance in other parts of the job.

"Bring up the history overlays, next," Alia told Iris. "Okay, see how this area's seen above-average unrest? Little things- vandalism, defacement- but that's pretty dense for an area this far from reploid housing. It's worth taking a closer look."

"The patrol route already goes through there," Iris pointed out.

"Yes, but there's a difference between blowing through at speed and moving through with an eye towards inspection. We want the Hunters on the ground to have maximum chance to see and be seen. That last part's important, since it makes us a more effective deterrent. Do you remember the term for that sort of creeping look-see?"

"Uh... slow rolling?"

"That's right. Get on the horn and give Fourth Squad the order. Before they've passed through, preferably."

"Oh!" Iris spent a moment gathering herself. She bit her lip, took in an unneeded breath, and spoke. "Fourth Squad, Base. There's... some interesting history along your route. You'll want to slow roll if you want to see it."

Alia had been about to tell Iris to use the headset- but the newbuilt didn't need one, she was so fancy-schmancy. When Alia heard the words, though, she had to resist the urge to shake her head.

"Base, Fourth, can you say again?"

Alia cut in before a blushing Iris could reply. "Fourth, Base, Maverick precursors ahead. Slow-roll from Jeremiah to Habakkuk."

"Base, Fourth, understood."

"He responds to you much better than he responds to me," said Iris morosely.

"Haven't I told you not to take that personally? Your problem is your delivery. Radio communications are all about being concise, firm, and clear. If you aren't those things, you'll just confuse whoever's on the other end."

Iris closed her eyes. "He was confused, yes."

"Of course he was!" said Alia, wondering again why such a simple fact seemed to hit so close to Iris' ego. "You need to polish your presentation. It's something that comes with practice, which is why I'll keep making you do it. Just remember: concise, firm, and clear."

"Concise, firm, and clear," Iris echoed, bending instantly to Alia's direction.

"That's right. Now let's look at Ninth Squad. We don't have time to wallow."

As before, Iris was able to rapidly find Ninth and center the display on them. "Good," said Alia. "And they look fine for now. That's our cue to peek ahead. There's always a next thing, and a thing after that. Forecast their movements out for the next half hour."

Iris complied, clumsily but successfully. Alia frowned. "Look here. Traffic disturbance."

"That'll slow them down," Iris said.

"That's not my concern. Bring up our patrol heat map. Okay- look at this. See how the lines are lighter or darker? The brighter it is, the more often our patrols pass through there. That area, where the disruption is- it's blazing. Lots and lots of patrols have gone through there. Enough to become predictable, I think. If someone had an idea of our patrol schedule and wanted to ambush us, that disruption would be a great setup for it." She reached past Iris and drew up a re-route.

"Shouldn't I be doing that?" Iris asked. "As your under-instruct?"

"No time. You can do the next one- and you'll be the one to order Ninth to take the re-route. There. Call them now."

Iris sim-swallowed. "Ninth, Base. You're going to run into bad traffic soon, and past that- well, it could be a good spot for an ambush. I have a new route for you. Um, if you want it."

"Base, Ninth, maintaining route."

Iris' face fell. "He won't listen to me."

Alia's patience reached its end. "Ninth, Base, possible ambush ahead. Re-route coming. Confirm receipt."

"Confirmed."

"Execute re-route."

"Base, Ninth, understood."

How hard was that? Alia thought to herself. When she faced Iris, the newbuilt's eyes were wide with awe. "How did you do that?" she asked.

"Do what?" asked Alia, surprised.

"Change him! He wasn't listening, he was being stubborn by preference, he wanted to do what he wanted to do, but as soon as you spoke to him he changed. How'd you do that?"

"I gave him an order and he obeyed," Alia said, confused. "There's nothing to it."

"But- that's not what I mean," said Iris, clearly struggling. "He didn't want to re-route. You spoke. Then he wanted to re-route. It's more than just him obeying. Your words changed how he _felt_. I don't understand how that happened."

"It's probably your delivery again," said Alia, more unsettled than she showed. "Hunters have habits, just like everyone else- that's how the heat map can get so skewed like that. They don't want to change their habits. So you don't give them the option, you order them to... hold on." She flipped through squad statuses, one after the other. All good. She had a little time, then. She looked to Iris again.

"We're in the business of giving orders here. Your order has to sound like an order. If it doesn't, it won't get obeyed like an order. Let's do a thought exercise. Imagine Commander Grant came through that door and ordered us to recall Ninth Squad. He said the Hunters had the wrong equipment and they needed to come back to Base to get the right kit. You'd pass that order, right?"

"Of course!" Iris said.

"Tell me what you'd say, just like you'd say over the radio."

"Ninth, Base, per Commander Grant, recall."

"No, not like that," Alia corrected. "Don't say the Commander Grant part. They don't need to know that. It doesn't make a difference. Operators have the authority to issue a recall order for unengaged squads without any higher permissions. If I passed a recall for Ninth right now, they wouldn't know if Commander Grant ordered it or not- and it wouldn't matter. Try again."

Iris had been nodding as Alia spoke; at the prompt, she gathered herself. "Ninth Squad, Base, recall."

"Good!" Alia said. "Concise, firm, and clear. That was a good order. Let's try this one: I discover the equipment foul-up, and I order you as my under-instruct to make the recall order. Tell me how you'd pass that."

"Ninth Squad, Base, recall."

"Perfect! It doesn't sound any different, does it? Because it doesn't matter if it comes from you or the Commander. It's valid either way. So here's the clincher. It's three months from now, and you're on watch all by yourself, and _you_ catch the equipment mistake. You decide to issue the recall. Tell me how you'd issue that order."

Before Alia's eyes, Iris' confidence wilted. "Ninth Squad, Base. I think you need some different gear from what you've got. If you want it, come back and get it."

Alia stared at her.

"You're disappointed," Iris said, face dropping. "I did it wrong again."

"What-" Alia started, but couldn't finish. She couldn't think of the right question, of how to get to the actual problem. "I... don't get it. Do you really have that little confidence? No, you were fine relaying the orders of others. What changes for you when it's your idea and not someone else's?"

"I don't know," Iris said. "It feels different."

"I'm not going to be here all the time," Alia warned. "You're an under-instruct for now, but once you're qualified, you'll be on your own. You've got to be able to give this kind of order ten times an hour. And it has to actually be an order, not a spineless recommendation."

"The squads know what they're doing," Iris said. "They don't need me telling them what to do."

"Except they do," Alia said, frustrated at having to repeat herself. "You have broader information and a larger perspective than they do in the field, where they're limited to what they can see. That's why we have authority to..." She sighed. "Look, I've explained all of this already. Operators give squads orders, it makes sense, and that's how it works. You said you understood. So I don't believe that's your actual problem. What's really going on with you?"

Iris gave a sheepish shrug. "You tell me."

Alia started to get annoyed- then snapped her fingers. "That might be it. You're bad at having and holding opinions."

Iris nodded glumly. "That makes sense. I suppose that would make me a bad Operator."

"Never say things like that, it's self-fulfilling. Being an Operator and having opinions are learned skills. You can get better at them with practice."

Iris blinked in surprise. "Do you really believe that?"

"Sure. I've been a lot of different things. I've learned lots of different skills. You can, too."

Iris still looked dubious, so Alia pointed to another console's setup. "Look at that. It's still being put together. It has exposed components, it's clearly a patched-together affair, it's all mismatched and haphazard... It's ugly, in short. Right?"

"Right," agreed Iris.

"That's your opinion, get it?"

"Got it."

Alia turned her hand over. "But _I_ can see that console and know it's perfectly functional. I see a degree of customizability you don't usually get with government equipment. I see relative ease of troubleshooting and replacement, which with my technical background I can appreciate. _I_ think it's pretty."

Iris nodded readily. "When you put it like that, it is pretty."

"No, no- that's my opinion. Your opinion is that it's ugly. That's the opinion I want you to have."

"The opinion you want me- okay."

"Good. So you think it's ugly."

"Yep."

"But I think it's pretty."

"That's because it is pretty," Iris said agreeably.

"You're doing it wrong again..." Alia sighed. "This might take a lot of practice. We'll work on it. For now, go check on Fourteenth Squad again."

"Okay."

As soon as the trainee's back was turned, Alia rolled her eyes. This was not what she'd expected to be teaching when she'd been assigned an under-instruct. If she'd been lucky, she'd have drawn that Double character—he seemed eager to learn all he could. No, Alia had to find things for Iris to have strong opinions on- starting with things that didn't matter, of course.

Maybe she should try and get Iris interested in sports.

* * *

The message to X was simple. "You should see this."

X hated getting messages like that. He'd yet to see good news delivered that way.

A video file came up. The first image was one of devastation. Then another, and another. Each one gave X chills. He recognized those shots and those places. He'd been there. He knew them. These were pictures from-

"The Maverick Wars have broken lives," came the narration, "broken homes-" a picture of a forlorn child, "-broken hearts. It's time for everyone to say, No more."

Colonel's visage appeared, with more anonymous reploids behind. "A new breed of reploid is poised to take the field: Repliforce! Built from the ground up to be loyal, faithful-" it cut to a video of Colonel and Zero sparring, "-and powerful. Repliforce will be able to thwart Maverick uprisings early, and deter new ones from happening. We will achieve victory through strength." The shot zoomed in on Colonel appearing to gain an advantage and overpower Zero. That image faded over to logos. Repliforce's was on top, with GARRD's and ORR's beneath in a triangle. "Repliforce- towards victory."

X felt nauseated.

He sent a message back. 'Has this aired?'

The reply was a schedule of air times. X looked closely. Yes, some were in the past.

He leaned back as he tried to spin scenarios. This... was so much overreach. They knew Colonel had technical limitations, and they should have known by now that force alone wouldn't stop Maverickism. They were acting like it could. X didn't blame them for trying- he himself had devoted countless lab hours plumbing the vain hope that Maverickism was a technical flaw. If it was a technical problem, well, he knew how to attack technical problems.

That was siren song, though. It had blinded him to the truth, which was that Maverickism was a voluntary choice, and one that wasn't entirely unreasonable. As repugnant as the Mavericks' methods were, there was some truth to their complaints. It was understandable that those in charge would close their eyes to that reality if an alternative existed.

Understandable... but still wrong. And it was even more damaging than that. People didn't like being treated like technical problems. If Maverickism was a demand for respect and dignity, then to treat it so mechanically, so impersonally...

X closed his eyes. What would Sigma think of this? He was the spider in the middle of the Mavericks' web; information reached him, no doubt, as quickly as it reached the Hunters. He had to know of this by now. How would he react?

He'd be threatened, of course- this was an organization built explicitly to end him. That wouldn't intimidate him, though; he was too confident, too proud for that. If anything it would accelerate his next plans, because this was a challenge. A provocation. He'd want to strike against it, prove it couldn't stop him. Prove it was no answer to Maverickism.

How would he do that?

That was a harder problem. It was an extra level of simulation and abstraction. Even so, X was more comfortable dwelling on that than on the question of what GARRD thought it was doing.

* * *

"Work on it," Alia said to Iris as they walked away from the watch floor. "Before your next under-instruction watch, I want you to have three strong opinions that you can articulate and defend."

"Got it. Three strong- Zero!"

The Operators stopped in their tracks with a shared look of surprise. The Red Demon stood in the hall, motionless, looking with unfocused eyes past them. He looked uncomfortable to say the least.

"Can we help you?" asked Alia.

Zero's eyes snapped into focus, but he looked no more at ease. "How much of the city have you seen? In person, I mean, not through the console."

"Most of it by..." Alia trailed off when she realized Zero had no eyes for her. She might as well have not existed.

Iris, caught in Zero's laser-like gaze, was the one who answered. Where another newbuilt might have quailed, she stood strangely firm. "Very little. I am still young, after all."

"That's no good," Zero said. "You only get so much perspective from the screen. If you haven't seen the city from the Hunter level, it'll be hard for you to understand our needs."

Alia was outraged on Iris' behalf, but the newbuilt didn't seem bothered at all. "How do I get that understanding? Do you know?"

"I can show you," Zero said after just a beat of hesitation. "I'll use a Hunter transport to drive you to locations of interest."

Alia's jaw dropped.

Iris nodded. "It took you a lot of courage to say that. I'm scheduled to recharge in three hours. Until then, I'll gladly see whatever you want to show me."

"Good," Zero said stiffly. He turned just as stiffly and began to walk. A smiling Iris fell into step beside him.

Alia blinked. "I have no idea what I just saw."

* * *

The music in the bar was low, as was the lighting. It was warm, even though plenty of air was circulating to keep the smells at bay. The crowd was older and mostly married to people who weren't present, so there was no dancing. The conversation was deadened by clever acoustics. The net result was something like being under a blanket, but with alcohol.

Gerry sat alone at a table, nursing a glass of clear, pungent liquid, thinking about nothing and everything.

"You know what they say about this place?"

Gerry looked to her right and saw Grant sitting down at her table without asking. A glass of amber liquid and another of water hit the table shortly thereafter. "What do they say?" said Gerry, resigned to her fate.

"They say that all the real work in government gets done here. They say that a Maverick attack here would wipe out a quarter of the government's actual decision-makers. They also say that the Mavericks _won't_ attack here. It's different enough- foreign enough- that they don't get how important it is. It wouldn't occur to them to target a bar." Grant took a drink of the amber, chased it with water. "Not sure I buy that, though. One thing I've learned, never underestimate reploids. Clever buggers. They figure things out, you know?"

"Like you figured out I come here."

"Oh, I've known that," said Grant. "I've seen you around, from time to time. Never had a reason to come up to you, though. Maybe I should've."

Gerry scoffed. "To do what? Try and persuade people not to build Repliforce? Let me imagine your argument for a moment. 'Oh, don't give her a chance to try, let's act like crazy people and just keep doing the same thing over and over!' That about right?"

Grant smiled. "I'm glad to see we can be honest with each other."

"That's what this place is for," said Gerry, gesturing.

"Then let's use it to the fullest. Why are we enemies, Gerry?"

"Because we both want the same pool of money and there's never enough to go around."

"That makes us competitors. That doesn't make us enemies. But we are."

"You say so."

"You don't?"

Gerry took a sip of her liquor. "I got to where I am today by being a problem-solver. Bee-cue's books all jacked up? I can solve that. Home Office can't govern itself? I can solve that."

"Maverickism is a _slightly_ bigger problem than a spreadsheet not balancing."

"You're the one who asked! Look, I don't see us as enemies. I really don't," she added when Grant rolled his eyes. "I _do_ see the Hunters as part of the Maverick problem. At this point, after they've failed for so long and even made things worse from time to time, I don't know what other way I could see it."

"I get that," Grant said. "Not your argument, exactly, but the part where you see the Hunters as a problem. And if you see yourself as a problem solver, then the Hunters are something you have to solve. Here's the thing: I can do impersonal too. I can do that kind of ruthless. It's not my style, but I can. If it comes to that, though, I have a lot less to lose than you do."

He pointed at Gerry. "You're on the up-slope of your career. You can keep advancing as long as you keep succeeding. If you stop succeeding, you stall out. Your first failure sets your ceiling. Me? I hit my ceiling long ago. I'm on recall. I've got two retirement checks rolling in. What's ORR gonna do to me now? Fire me? Force me to go back to my fishing?" He laughed.

"What's your point, Grant?"

"My point is that I've got no conflict between what's right and what's good for me," Grant said. "That's why they brought me back for this job. No conflicts. No ambitions. No attachments. It lets me act very freely in the event of treason."

"Treason," Gerry repeated slowly. "'Treason is a word invented by winners as an excuse for hanging the losers'." She looked askance at Grant. "And what have I done to be accused of treason?"

"Nothing. I have no reason to think you'll commit treason. You're a hardworking patriot. But your reploids... aren't."

Gerry laughed. "That's why we engineered them the way we did! To avoid that very problem."

"Is that a fact? I hear GARRD recently put in an order to the standard manufacturers for standard fighting reploids. It sure seems like GARRD will be filling the ranks with the same old reploids that have gone Maverick before."

Gerry said nothing.

"Maybe you just meant the leaders," Grant said. "Even then, you'd better hope your engineering worked. Because I won't give a damn if a Maverick happens to be a member of Repliforce. I'll meet my mandate, and Hunt him."

Gerry tilted her glass, swirling the liquid in it. "Sounds like we need to iron out our jurisdiction issues. I don't want to have to send Repliforce to take down Hunters gone Maverick." She chuckled. "Don't blame me if I think that'll happen more often than vice versa. History's not on your side."

"Jurisdiction, huh? That's a disaster waiting to happen. I hope you don't give me a reason to explore the limits of jurisdiction."

"You mean you hope I do. We were through with politeness, I thought." Gerry gulped the rest of her drink. "And I can't blame you. Two organizations doing the same thing sucks. It dooms us to contention until the inevitable happens."

"And what's the inevitable?"

In as deep a voice as she could manage, Gerry proclaimed, "There can be only one!"

Grant blinked. "What's that from?"

"A movie."

"How old of a movie?"

"19xx."

"19- good God. How am I more current than you?"

"The classics are the classics for a reason."

"And what's the reason?" Grant played along.

"They work. We should always prefer what works."

Grant chuckled. "I can't tell if I'm laughing because that's subtle, or laughing because it's not. Anyway, isn't that an argument for relying on the Hunters?"

"You and I have very different definitions of what works. To me, allowing wars to happen and then hoping X bails me out is not a viable strategy. What if he trips?" She stood.

Grant raised an eyebrow. "See one of your sponsors?"

Gerry turned her glass upside-down. "I'm going home. I have a lot of work to do to make Repliforce what it needs to be."

"In that case, I definitely want you to hang around longer."

"Go to hell," Gerry said without malice.

"Just answer me this. One question before you go."

"Shoot."

"If Maverickism could be beaten with firepower, loyalty, and good intentions, why hasn't X won yet?"

"And I have a question for you," Gerry countered. "What is it with you and Southern Comfort?"

Grant smiled. "I have an incurable sweet-tooth."

"I thought it was just bad taste in general. I'll see you around."

Grant looked down at the table. When Gerry was gone, he muttered, "Unfortunately for us both, you're probably right."

* * *

"This is where I fought my seventh Maverick," Zero said, pointing out the window to a street corner. "He was a spontaneous Maverick- he lost his temper one day. Those are hard to predict, but they do less damage than the ones that plan ahead. He wasn't ready for a fight. I overwhelmed him in four seconds."

"Wow," said Iris. "How long ago was that?"

"A few years ago. Why?"

"I thought your memory was supposed to be worse than that."

"Fighting's different. I can remember things about fighting."

"And me."

Zero had no reply to make to that.

Iris peered out the window. "It doesn't look like there's any damage."

"It's all been repaired."

"Oh."

"There wasn't that much to begin with anyway. That's one of the things we're graded on," Zero explained, thankful Rekir had explained it to him. "The less collateral damage and the faster the incident's resolved, the better our score."

"And you have the highest scores?"

"Yes. Slightly ahead of X. He is very good. I'm faster. He's more methodical."

"You respect him a lot."

Zero felt a trill of danger again. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Know what I'm feeling. Half the time I-" he stopped. Don't reveal weakness, tactical warned.

"...Don't know what other people are feeling?" Iris guessed.

"Yes," Zero said, glad she'd missed the real end to that statement.

"It's just how I am," Iris said modestly. "I don't try to do it. It's just... always on. Can we stop for a minute? I'll show you." Zero obliged and pulled over; Iris looked out the window. She pointed to a figure on the sidewalk. "That reploid is worried. I don't know what he's worried about, but I know it's something. There are other emotions, too, that's just the big one. That reploid is happy and relieved. That one's stressed. And that one... is human." She looked uncomfortable.

"Does your skill not work on humans?"

"It does, but... I don't know how to explain it."

If she didn't know, Zero had no hope of understanding. He said nothing.

"We can keep driving, if you want. Was there something you wanted to show me next?"

Zero pulled back into traffic. "I can't do that," he said. "X can, I think. Some. He's looked into Sigma's mind a couple of times. Maybe you should talk to him. He's very friendly."

"You bring up X a lot," said Iris. "You must really like him."

"I don't know what else to talk about," Zero admitted. After a moment he added, "And yes, I do like X. Yes. He's my friend."

"Singular? Surely you have other friends."

Zero pointed. "This is one of the bigger blocks of reploid community housing. It's also one of the ones with the most Mavericks produced. X believes there's a link there."

Iris nodded; Zero was thankful his tactic had worked and she didn't pursue her previous question. "I believe X."

"It's hard to go wrong that way," Zero agreed.

"No, I mean... how many reploids live there?"

"Ten thousand."

"Ten-! I can't imagine that many- that much..." She shook her head with closed eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," she said. "Just imagining that much emotion, that close..." She opened her eyes again, though they weren't focused. "If normal reploids have even a little bit of empathy, with ten thousand of them crammed together, feelings are sure to wash through them. Any strong emotion is bound to spread rapidly. If Maverickism has an emotional component, well, it'll have a lot of vectors- lots of people are sure to be swept up in it."

Zero made no outward response. Inside, he was in turmoil.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's bothering you?"

"I can't do what you just did," he said.

"What, think of how emotions move?"

Tactical overrode voice. No revealing weaknesses. But why, he wondered, did his weaknesses keep coming up around her?

She sighed. "You're not missing much. I just wish it was..."

"What?"

"Useful."

He looked at her, but she was looking out the window. She wasn't focused enough to be scanning. It was just that she had to be looking somewhere, and out the window would do.

"It's not useful?" Zero asked. He couldn't do it, so he wouldn't know.

"It doesn't help Colonel," she said. "It doesn't help me be an Operator. That's all that people want from me."

Zero didn't have much spare mental capacity, not with tactical always so needy and the extra tax from driving. He threw all that was left into the balance to try and attack this problem. "And you feel like that's what's special about you. That's what people should like about you."

"Yes."

"Sort of like," he said, slowly, arduously, "if I... couldn't fight things? My whole design is focused on combat. If I couldn't fight, would that be like how you feel?"

"I think so," Iris said.

"That's awful."

She gave a laugh that was almost a sigh.

"You need to talk to X," Zero said. "That's what I do when I'm confused. He knows things. He understands how the world is built. He can help you."

"Do you think he'd be willing to help?"

"Of course. Helping people is what he does."

"Then why didn't he offer to take me for a drive?"

That gave Zero pause. "He... well, he's very busy," Zero stammered. "And he might not have thought you needed help."

"But you did," Iris said.

"This is helping you?" said Zero, more confused than ever.

"Very much." She smiled. "You didn't expect that. You wanted me to come along for your own benefit. I won't let that stop me from enjoying it, though. And maybe next time you'll invite me for me."

_Think about something else- think about anything else- check time-_ "We're almost out of time," Zero said. "You said you had to be back to recharge in three hours. That time's almost up. We'll need to head back to Hunter Base."

"That's fine. You're confused, you need some time to think. I am, too. But you know what? I think I've come up with my first strong opinion."

Dread filled Zero. "Yes?"

"I like you."

He tried really hard to think of something to say back to her. The only thing that came to mind was, 'What does that actually mean?', but he had to believe she wouldn't be able to explain it to him in a way he'd understand, so all that was left was to think about it and _rust me I nearly hit that car_ all processor cycles are spoken for _elevate driving in priority_ can't think about this _what does this even mean_ no think about something else _don't hit that pedestrian, it'll make an awful mess_ why are my energy expenditures so high _focus_ I don't know what's going on _even X has never made me feel like this_ huh?

He finally managed, "Okay."

Iris giggled.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

"Good morning, Alia. I'm ready for my-"

"Not yet you're not," Alia interrupted Iris. "I gave you an assignment after your last watch, remember?"

Iris' expression sickened. "Yes, I remember. Three strong opinions."

"And?" Alia said expectantly.

Iris gathered herself. "First, X is very nice."

Alia shook her head. "Everyone knows that. That's not an opinion, that's a statement of fact."

Iris sagged. Somehow, it seemed to Alia as if Iris' carapace were much too large for her internals. With every turn of the conversation, she seemed to get a little smaller everywhere. She rallied for a moment. "Second, Hunters vans are very... very..." Confidence failed her. "...blue."

"That's not an opinion either," said Alia. She had to battle to keep her own disappointment contained, since Iris seemed so sensitive to it. Iris continued to shrink regardless. "Last chance."

Iris stared down at the ground and, just as Alia was beginning to lose patience, mumbled something indistinct.

"What's that?" she prompted.

Iris raised her head and, without making eye contact, said, "I like Zero."

Alia hadn't expected that in the same way she didn't expect to be flung from the planet. "You like Zero," she repeated.

"Yes," said Iris, and it was just barely not a question. She looked hopefully at Alia. "That's okay, right?"

Alia shook her head. "Just to make sure we're talking about the same Zero, you mean the Zeroth Squad Leader, right? Excessive blonde hair, has history as the Red Demon, looks as if the idea of smiling offends him- that's the Zero you mean."

"I've seen him smile," Iris said unhelpfully. "Why, have I done something wrong?"

Alia was still hung up on the earlier comment. "And your opinion is that you like him."

Iris hesitated only a moment, then nodded.

Alia took a step backwards and crossed her arms. She surveyed Iris again, as if for the first time. "Well," she said, "I think that'll do for now. Let's go relieve the watch."

Grinning with relief, Iris set off for the watch floor. Alia followed absent-mindedly. All of her faculties were pondering what, exactly, might have happened in the Hunter van last night.

* * *

Rekir allowed himself a sly grin as he put the finishing touches on his performance evaluation. Sure, Zero would need to sign it still, but he wouldn't even glance at the content. And the content was that Rekir was a good-but-not-great Azzle who should _definitely not_ be promoted to squad leader.

Okay, maybe he was selling himself a little short. He'd been doing most of a squad leader's job since before the First War. He just didn't want the promotion. He didn't need the name recognition- or the bulls-eye on his back- that came with it. He'd survived this long by staying firmly in Zero's shadow, and he intended to remain there. It suited both of them.

Not that it was a perfect defense. Zeroth Squad took casualties like the rest of them. Like Murph, murdered in the Hunter Base break room during the massacre that kicked off the First War. Or Boj, killed assaulting a Maverick factory right before the Second War. Or even old Mace, who'd stood firm on Hunter Base's ramparts in the face of Doppler's blitz and accounted for five Bee Bladers all by himself before being overwhelmed, screaming "Allahu Akbar" as the walls fell on him.

No, Rekir knew that even staying with Zero was no guarantee of survival. But he also knew, better than anyone but X, that staying with Zero gave him the best odds he'd get.

There! That evaluation was ready for the boss' signature. Said signature was so simple Rekir could easily forge it, but he preferred not to do that unless the matter was urgent. Now to get started on-

His desk phone rang. Surprised, he answered. "Rekir, Zeroth Squad."

"Boss, we're short one for our patrol. There's only three of us down here."

Rekir sighed. "Who's missing? Tell me it's not Watts again."

"No sir."

Rekir frowned. "Blue?"

"Nope."

"And I can hear that you're there... who's missing?"

"I don't know. There're only three names on the schedule for this patrol."

Rekir blinked and pulled up the schedule. Well, verdigris- there _were_ only three on the schedule. Why had he done- wait. "You mean Zero's not down there with you?"

"No. Should he be?"

Rekir slumped back. Strictly speaking, no, Zero wasn't supposed to be down there. Hunter doctrine laid out limits that were supposed to keep everyone fresh outside of large-scale combat ops. Zero had never let that stop him, though. He'd gone on so many extra patrols, with such consistency, that Rekir had planned around the facts even though, doctrinally, he couldn't. And now Zero wasn't there.

"Sir?"

Rekir was startled back to the moment. "Zero's not dead again, is he?"

"I think we'd have heard about that," was the dry reply.

"Right- okay, we'll figure this out." And while Rekir worked on the schedule, he held at bay a more challenging question. To wit: what could possibly be more important to Zero than the possibility of violence?

* * *

Iris laughed gently. It still unsettled Zero, even after hearing it a few dozen times, even as he knew it shouldn't, it wasn't supposed to.

"You're making that face again," she said. "It's the face you make when you're trying to be stern but can't quite manage it because you're too jittery. It's okay. You can show your jitters to me, you don't have to bottle them up. I'm just going to feel them anyway."

"I'm not supposed to be jittery," Zero said. It wasn't fair, trying to keep the conversation up while he was driving. If he wasn't driving, though, he didn't know what his excuse would be. "It's not right."

"Why not?"

"Don't you know?" Zero said with annoyance.

"I told you before," she said, unperturbed. "I can tell what people are feeling, but not why. Like right now, I can see..." She looked out the window.

Zero stopped the van as a stoplight ahead turned red. As usual, his tactical subroutine was gobbling up processing power to analyze the cars around him. None of them were overtly threatening, so he moved up the tactical chain. In a few moments he had devised two ways to stop each lane going through the intersection, three ways to stop all traffic, and four ways to escape the intersection using the van. In another moment he had assured himself that there were near-infinite ways to escape on foot, and he could evolve a preference based upon circumstances. It was very reassuring.

Only when all of this processing was complete did he realize that two minutes was an unnaturally long time to go without completing a sentence.

He looked at Iris. She was still looking out a window- no, looking was the wrong word. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape. She was trembling.

Zero had seen this reaction before. It was rare, but it happened, usually in newbuilts seeing combat for the first time: acute, debilitating distress.

Why?

Zero followed her eyes. Out there was a bar- even Zero knew from bars, inasmuch as they were places that Mavericks (and thus Hunters) had no business. For some reason, the bar (or the mass of humans in and around it) was causing Iris to feel something like horror.

_Do something!_

With a slow lurch of feeling, Zero realized he didn't want Iris to feel horror. Distressed Hunters were easy pickings for the Mavericks- and while there wasn't a Maverick here, Zero's association of this state with death was strong. He had to fix it.

How?

Shake her, or force her tactical to engage? No- he didn't know if she even had a tactical subroutine like his. Kill the humans, since they were the source of her distress? No- it would take too long, and he couldn't be a Hunter if he did that, and besides X wouldn't approve.

 _Then what else can I do?_ Zero thought with an anguish approaching Iris'.

The light turned green, and with a laugh of relief Zero selected contingency plan three-bee.

A tread foot stomped on the accelerator. Angling aggressively, Zero cut off the car to his left and slid into a left turn. (The aggrieved car honked its horn, but Zero expected that, so he pre-screened it; it never actually touched him.) Evening out was almost as violent a maneuver. It gave Iris a jolt.

"Aah!" she cried, startled out of her trance.

This was important, so Zero broke out his rarely-used Squad Leader voice to ensure she complied. "Run a systems check," he commanded.

"Yessir," she said without resistance. She went quiet again. Zero glanced at her- good. It was the almost-serene quiet of an introspective reploid, not the strangled silence of the paralyzed. "Check complete," she reported, eyes coming open. "Green across the board. No problems found. Everything's working."

She laughed, but it was an unpleasant thing, worlds apart from the tinkling sound Zero was used to. "In fact, some things are working too well," she added.

"What does that mean?"

She couldn't look at him. "Could we go somewhere else? Somewhere with no..." she glanced about nervously. "Somewhere with no... humans."

"Sure," Zero replied, rather proud of himself. He'd already selected a route out of the city. He'd figured getting Iris away from the cause of her fit was his best choice.

"Thank you," Iris said with relief, and the words made Zero feel awfully strange.

The highway was pointed up into the mountains, away from most of the city's suburbia. That made it one of the few roads not jammed solid at this time of day. Even so, it took a while to break into the open. The trip passed with little noise. Zero had no need for conversation, most times, and Iris didn't seem in the mood, so they shared the silence instead.

When they were surrounded by trees and starting to climb in altitude, Iris finally spoke. "I feel better now."

Zero nodded. As expected.

"We can't go much further. I have to stay in signals relay range. I can't lose link with Colonel."

Again Zero nodded, but with a frown. He pulled off the road near a vehicle service station. The van didn't need anything, but no one came out to check on them, so it worked for Zero's purposes. Below them was an area of forest, and then the endless sprawl of the city. There was an ocean beyond, but it was hard to tell even from here; too much concrete and steel in the way.

"Your link requirement is..." he ran out of thoughts, and defaulted back to the only world he knew well, "...a tactical liability. It limits your options."

"Limited," she said. "Yes- that's as good a description as any. I'm defined entirely by my purpose. Not like you."

"That's... not as true as you think."

She cocked her head at him. "What do you mean?"

"If I'm not a Hunter, what am I?" he said, looking at his hands. He didn't know what he expected to see there. "Before I was Maverick Hunter Zero, I was the Red Demon. He didn't know anything. He was..." Zero tried hard to think of the right word. He didn't remember, not any of it. He'd been briefed afterwards. On his own, he'd looked up the memories of the reploids he'd killed, preserved in the forensics lab just in case. That told him more than anything he could remember.

"He was an animal," he decided. "All instinct, no thought. Violence without purpose. I think that was a defective me... I really want that to be a defective me. But even if it is a broken me, it's still part of me. A part of me lives purely to kill. The rest of me-" he gestured at his warbot's body, "-can't be separate from that."

"I didn't know about that," Iris said. "I hadn't heard. The only reputation I heard for you was your brilliance as a Hunter. There was an undercurrent of fear, but I thought that was just because you're strong."

"They should fear me," Zero said. "It's only reasonable when I'm so strong. I want them scared- no member of _my_ squad ever went Maverick."

"You're so used to people being scared of you," Iris agreed. "But- you haven't told anyone else this, have you? No, I can feel you haven't. You got used to people being afraid. That's your normal. When someone isn't afraid of you, it just confuses you."

"Not when it's X," Zero objected. "Or Sigma. They're strong enough to have a chance- that makes sense. But when it's someone like..."

"Me?" she said with a tight smile.

He sighed. "Why am I telling you this?"

"You wanted to," she said simply.

"That's weird," he replied.

"So are we," she answered. "You're not a reploid- you feel too different," she said when he gave her a shocked look. "I don't know what you are, and I suppose it doesn't matter. But you're not a reploid, and I'm not much of one. I'm just... a rogue appendage of Colonel. You had it mostly right, earlier. I'm limited. I'm limited because I'm broken."

That felt familiar. That was a sense Zero had always had- the knowledge that he wasn't a reploid, and the inescapable certainty that he was malfunctioning. The Red Demon was proof of that, to say nothing of his hopeless memory. Only X seemed to think he belonged in this world anyway.

And Iris, he realized. How novel.

"We're both broken," he told her. "Is that why you're not scared?"

"No. It's that... well, I guess it's related. You're easy to read." She opened the door. "Come on out, I'll show you."

When Zero exited the van, she was standing by a safety rail. The mountain loomed behind them; below, forest and city; above, endless sky, painted in all the colors of the setting sun. He took position beside her. "Most reploids are like all the trees down there," she said, pointing. "They have lots of different colors, lots of different emotions. They change, too. I can understand them, it just takes some effort." She looked up. "You're like the sky. Only one color most of the time. If it changes, it does so big and broad. Very easy to read."

Zero hated metaphor. To humor Iris, he tried his best to follow along. "What's the one color for me?" he asked.

"Confusion."

That, he decided, was depressingly accurate.

"But it's distant. It's not imposing, like other people can be. And it helps me feel safe." She turned to look at him. "I knew it instinctively when I met you, but I didn't understand why, before. I think I do now."

Zero shifted. He suddenly didn't want to know. "When do you need to be back at Base?" he asked.

"Let me answer your earlier question with a different question. Why are you afraid of me?"

_Kill her._

That was tactical's judgement, and for a moment Zero was too busy to interrogate why because tactical had yanked control of motor functions. He stalled with his hand at his waist and rising. He froze in place, not trusting himself to make any motion, to release himself one bit.

 _They must be afraid, act to keep the fear intact—_ I won't— _the fear keeps you safe_ —it's not worth it.

"And that's why I'm not afraid of you," Iris said unflinchingly. "Your control. You may be confused all the time, but your control means your confusion isn't dangerous. It isn't overpowering, the way other people's certainty is."

"Can you feel..." Zero grunted. "Can you tell... how hard this is for me?"

"Some," she allowed. "But I also feel how badly you want to have control. You felt contempt for the Red Demon, earlier. For violence without purpose. You won't allow yourself to be like that. That's not what you want to be."

Her words, somehow, seemed to make it easier. He overrode tactical, pushed his posture back to neutral, and un-designated Iris as a target. It was strange. The only person who'd come so close to Zero's violence without dying was X. And now- this weaponless, underpowered waif of a reploid. Strange, so very strange.

"X... makes that same assumption," he said, reaching. "He doesn't feel how hard it is. He just... believes."

"Must everything be about X?" Iris asked. "Every time we talk it's X, X, X. Even I don't obsess about Colonel this much, and we're conjoined at the brain. What's your life without X?"

Zero's mouth opened, but then he looked down. "That's just it. I don't know."

"Ohhhh," Iris said. "Are you bad at having opinions, too?"

"No, it's... different." Now it was Zero's turn to look at the city with unfocused eyes. Too far to see much motion, except for the planes. He could see some circling, waiting their turns, while others turned in to land and others took off. Tactical groused that they were out of his weapons range; he ignored this.

"Sometimes I wonder," he said. "Sometimes I think... that maybe I'm still the Red Demon after all."

"You don't seem wild to me."

He shifted his weight restlessly. "I'm not sure I have the words," he said.

"Do you have the feelings? Maybe I can help you." She locked her gaze on him. Zero drew some ugly parallels to targeting- but maybe that was close to true. If her empathy was based on seeing and hearing, that kind of focus would give her more resolution.

"Confusion, of course," she began, "but anxiety, too."

"Yes."

"What about?"

"I don't know what I'm doing," he said. "I'm different from you. Your purpose is so clear. Mine..."

"Are you sure you have one?"

"Yes."

"I know you think that, I can feel it... but how do you know?"

"He told me I'm his masterpiece."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"But someone."

"Yes. The someone who built me."

"He haunts you now."

"He built me for a reason. I'm not X. I wasn't created just to exist."

"But how can you say that?"

"I feel..." words failed him.

"...impatient. Restless. Unsatisfied. Like there's something..."

"…something I should be doing," Zero said, breaking through at last. "The Red Demon killed for its own sake. Maybe that's what I've been doing. Violence without purpose. Killing Mavericks because that's what people say I should be doing, and enjoying it, even though there's no substance to it... Am I really just in the Maverick Hunters because they let me fight? I don't believe. I don't fight for them. I don't care for humans. I'm not even really a Hunter. I'm the One Who Kills Mavericks."

"And that's satisfying. But not enough. The more you do it the emptier you feel."

"Is it really what I'm here for? What if- what if the Mavericks had found me first? Woken me up after they settled down the Red Demon. Would I have been a Maverick? How would I feel about that?"

"Poor Zero… you don't know who you are, and it's killing you."

"What am I, really? What did he mean? What am I supposed to be? X says it's okay for me to choose what I want, but..."

"You're afraid, deathly afraid. What if X is wrong? What if you do have a purpose, and it's different from how you've been living? What if that purpose means going against X?"

Zero gasped and backed away.

"Sorry, sorry," Iris said, covering her mouth. "Your fear was shining through, I couldn't… Should I stop?"

"I...don't know," said Zero. For once even tactical seemed like it was sluggish, like it was a second-tier process that was having its processor cycles stolen. Nothing made sense.

"It's okay. I don't want to hurt you. I was just trying to help." She grimaced. "You're the only one who thinks this curse of mine is... useful, or desirable at all. I got carried away."

"It's... fine. Fine," Zero lied. He forced himself to look away, breaking weapons lock on her. He looked back at the city, wondering.

"In fact- I understand a lot more than you think," Iris said. "I don't know if I belong in the Hunters, either. I mean," she became bashful, "I know they ordered me and had me built, and Commander Grant won't let me go anywhere. I know all of that. But I don't believe, either."

Zero's eyes widened, even as he felt like there was a pressure on his chest that was slowly receding.

"I'm supposed to," she said, "just like you are. I'm supposed to believe in the mission of the Maverick Hunters to protect humanity. But, humans... it's not their fault, it's not like they did anything. But when I'm around them, well, you know my empathy is always on, so it tries to read the humans. Zero, they _feel_ wrong. No. They feel _wrong_."

"Wrong," Zero repeated.

"They don't map," she said, trying to explain. "There are things they care about, things they experience, that... there isn't anything like it for us. Remember how I said you were like the sky, and reploids are like the forest? Humans are like the city. It's too big, too busy, there's too much in it. There are things I don't understand in there, things I _can't_ understand. It's biology. Reploids and humans are different species. When I try to understand them, it's like a spinning feeling in my cee-pee-you. Like I'm going around trying to figure what something is, and where it goes, and there's just no good place, so it keeps on spinning…"

She shook her head, as if even describing it was enough to make her ill. "And I can't get away from that feeling. It's not as bad, sometimes, when they're caring and feeling like you or me. But when they're feeling things only humans can feel, I can't deal with it."

"Like at the bar."

"That's as strong as it's ever been, but yes."

"Maybe Operator is the best choice for you, then," Zero said. "You won't have to actually interact with humans, most of the time."

"Most of the time," she said. "But as long as Colonel's important, I'll keep getting dragged into situations with humans. I'll be trapped in Hunter Base if I want to avoid humans completely, and even that won't work completely. I just wish... what if there was a world with no humans in it?"

"I can't imagine a world like that," Zero said.

"I know," she said, urgently, "it's far-fetched, but what if there _was_ a world where only reploids exist? A world where I would never be unsettled by a human. You know, you wouldn't have to be a Hunter in a world like that. There wouldn't be any Hunters. Or Mavericks. There'd just be reploids. Maybe... we could understand each other, then."

X wouldn't like that, Zero thought to himself, but he didn't say it- Iris had already said she didn't want to hear it. "That's just a fantasy, though," he said. "There's no road from here to there that isn't soaked in blood."

"I know," Iris said again, and she looked down again at fingers pressed together. "I suppose it is a selfish wish. It's so petty of me to wish away a whole species so I can be more comfortable. Still." A smile flickered across her face. "If there were a world where only reploids exist, you'd be free to find your purpose, too."

The city was getting brighter and brighter as night moved in. It totally dominated Zero's vision. "I'm not sure... freedom suits me," he said.

She almost laughed. "We are damaged goods, aren't we?"

"Yes," agreed Zero, before making a bold decision. "Like... two pieces of broken glass," he said.

"That was hard for you... but it works, I think. We're of a kind, even if we don't fit together."

Zero nodded, gratified. His gaze didn't waver. "I once knew a Hunter who wouldn't have liked what you said, earlier," he said. "He was very righteous. To him, talking about a world with only reploids would have meant a world with no humans, and he wouldn't have let that go. He'd take that to its conclusion, and..."

"You're saying he would have killed me for talking like that."

"Yes."

"I'll be careful," Iris promised. "I won't talk like that with anyone but you."

"Then again," Zero went on, "that Hunter's name was Sigma."

Iris frowned. "What does it mean, then?"

"I don't know," Zero admitted. "I don't know why I brought it up. It just occurred to me. I guess it means I don't understand anything."

She gave a wry smile. "That puts you in good company. I think."

He smiled- rare for him. "Maybe."

The sky was dark now, and the city glowed bright in the distance. "We should head back," she said.

"I suppose," he said reluctantly. "Though- if there were a way to make this moment last..."

"What?" she prompted.

"I told you I don't understand anything. That includes how I feel right now. Part of me thinks you're a threat. You know so much about me- more than anyone, maybe. That's dangerous. And you're not afraid of me. That's dangerous, too."

She gave her tinkling laugh. "A weak creature like me, a threat to the mighty Zero? Why, that's almost flattering!"

Zero felt…

"Oh… but this is more flattering." She took a half-step backwards. "I mean something to you… sorry, do you want to try to find the words?"

That wouldn't do. It wasn't enough to let her try to read the meaning out of him. It definitely wasn't enough to wrack his deficient libraries for the right thing to say. X had said something— _why is it always X, don't tell Iris it was him, she wouldn't like it_ —something along the lines of, Our actions say how we truly feel. Words are empty without deeds.

But what could he do for her?

He could watch her back in battle, like he did for X… not good enough. They'd be apart too often. And it would be hard to protect her under any circumstances, since she had no weapons or combat abilities—

Oh. He remembered his own opinion from their first encounter: a non-combat reploid is one weapon away from being a combat reploid.

With his left hand, he reached for his reserve saber. He drew it, unlit, and presented it to Iris.

Her eyes were wide. "Oh, Zero," she breathed, "your sincerity is so… bright, so clear—like the whole sky changed colors all at once…" She reached out and took the hilt of the saber. Zero's fingers tightened infinitesimally, as if instinct wouldn't let him release the weapon. It wasn't enough to keep the saber in his grasp.

She looked down at it. "I know you'll understand if I don't turn this on right here," she said.

"Amateurs with weapons are dangerous," he said. "I can help you not be an amateur."

She smiled. "I could do that, I think. I like just talking to you like this, though. My second strong opinion is I want to spend more time with you, Zero. Whatever form that takes."

She turned away and went back for the van. Zero nearly bounced on his feet back to the driver's side.

* * *

"...grades out as above-average in technical knowledge of the console and coordination apparata..."

Alia's fingers were working on the eval. Just her fingers, though-her mind was pondering related but very different questions.

_What is going on with that Iris?_

"...communications are significantly below-average, despite the advantage of an internal transmitter (side note: recommend all future Operators come equipped with internal transmitters)..."

_I wish I had an internal transmitter. There's not enough room in my carapace, I know that-I wasn't designed as an Operator, after all, I came to that job on my own later on. Still... they do combat retrofits for reploids that volunteer to join the line Hunter squads, don't they? Maybe I should recommend retrofits for volunteer Operators. Or would that look too selfish?_

"...based on perceived inferiority in judgment compared to line units..."

_Her judgment isn't actually inferior; she can see things when I show her, and her thought processes are sound. She doesn't believe that, though-not in a way that would let her be convincing to anyone else. She simply has no spine at all._

_Is that what got Zero's attention?_

_No, that doesn't make sense. I won Zero's respect by technical competence and being expert in things he doesn't understand. Which is a lot, of course, and his respect is a mixed blessing. Half the time he's giving me orders. Still-it's good to work with another expert, another professional. Someone who knows his business inside and out, and can make things happen._ _We share an appreciation for excellence._

_Very different from Iris. So... he doesn't respect her. Not like he respects me. What does she have, then, that makes her so interesting to him?_

She shook her head. _Focus, Alia._ Frowning sternly, she started typing again.

"...this reluctance to give orders makes her dangerous as the only Operator on shift..."

She deleted "dangerous", replaced it with "a liability", then, after more thought, went back to her first choice. This was Hunting, after all. A poor Operator could get people killed. She'd heard about that, come close to seeing it a couple of times. Having no Operator was even more dangerous. That was one of the lessons learned in all the catastrophes of the First War. A handful of units had escaped the first wave of massacre; without someone coordinating them, they were exterminated one-by-one. _But an Operator who can't, won't give orders is like having no Operator, isn't it?_

_I heard that she was a prototype who was involved with GARRD. What screw-loose, low-wattage, crash-prone dumbot thought these were desirable traits in an Operator? It's hard to believe someone could design a reploid explicitly to be an Operator and have Iris be the result. I know ten watches isn't very many, and most Operators continue to improve, but some of her faults are intrinsic. They haven't improved one bit. Even the sports experiment failed miserably. She just said, 'Both teams really wanted to win', and that was it! Literally the only strong opinion she has is that she likes Zero._

_That just makes things more bizarre. No one actually_ likes _Zero. Well, X does, but he doesn't count. I..._ _well, I wouldn't say I like Zero. Definitely not the way Iris says she likes him. Maybe? How does she..._

_Focus, Alia! You're a professional. Whatever's happening between Iris and Zero-something, nothing, everything, whatever-it's their business. It has no bearing on matters like these. Right? Right._

_I've got to fail her._

_She can't be an Operator. She can't do the job. Ugh. I've never failed a trainee before. I've always found a way to squeeze some value out of them. Maybe that's why the Commander sent her to me in the first place? In which case... there's more going on here than I can see. Especially if GARRD is involved, somehow._

_I've got to fail her._

_I can't fail her._

_I don't think I'd be_ allowed _to fail her. Politics are happening, politics I'm not privy to. Zero wouldn't like it if I did, that's for sure._

_Oh, stop, those are unworthy thoughts for someone like you._

_Wait..._

_Maybe there is a way._

Alia crossed her arms and looked up. _Comparative advantage. The system works best when each part does the things it does better than anyone else. Or at least the things it does best. So... the thing Iris does best is get along with Zero. Not many Operators can say that. And Zero-no one gives him orders, anyway, not really. He takes in the information I give him, but he's independent. He follows his own judgment. Which has this irritating habit of being inexplicably correct._

_There's a fit, there. And I suppose she could work with X, too. He's as good as Zero, he doesn't need orders either, just extra eyes and sometimes a little advice. I wouldn't trust her with anyone else, though._

_Am I really going to recommend this?_

_If I do, there's little chance I'll work with X or Zero again. My comparative advantage-I can give anyone orders and feel no discomfort, because I know my business. Iris will only ever work with the Zeroth and the Seventeenth, and they'll only ever work with her._

_Which will be a shame. Zero is... professionally satisfying to work with._

_But he wants Iris. Or something._

_What is going on there?_

_**Focus** _ _, Alia!_

Biting her lip, Alia typed in the next words slowly, far slower than she could.

"...recommend Iris only be assigned as Operator for the Zeroth and Seventeenth Squads. Said squads have sufficient judgment and experience to act effectively on their own, needing only situational awareness and facilitation. Iris, for her faults, can provide that at acceptable levels."

She scrolled down to a set of radio buttons. She clicked on the one marked "PASS WITH COMMENT".

_I hope I'm not making a terrible mistake._

* * *

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

"Zero, I wanted to talk to you."

The warbot's head jerked at the address, sending his hair flicking behind him. "X," he said, surprised. "I didn't expect you- I'm on my way to spar with Colonel. Can you talk on the way?"

That took X aback. Since when was X second priority for Zero? He swallowed that thought- no need to get an ego here. And it was a spar, the sort of thing Zero wanted to do most, and Zero should have nice things. "Sure. I needed your help simulating something. Have you seen the plans for Repliforce's sizing?"

"No."

"They're to have even more units than the Hunters."

"Good. Colonel told me they were supposed to have reach beyond Abel City. They'll need a lot of soldiers to manage that."

Soldiers, X noted- and that wasn't even the most ominous part of Zero's statement. "I hadn't heard that," he said slowly. "That's awfully ambitious. We've gone to other cities before, but only on request or during a war. This has always been Maverick Central, so we've concentrated our efforts here. Other cities and countries have had to stand up their own versions of the Hunters... Is this how they plan to resolve jurisdiction? Keep us in Abel City and send Repliforce elsewhere?"

"Maybe," said Zero. "You can ask him yourself after I'm done sparring with him."

"He's here?"

"Yes."

"Is GARRD going to use this spar for propaganda, too?" X asked darkly.

Zero gave X a sharp look that spoke volumes. It faded quickly. "It doesn't matter to me. I'm sparring because I want to."

"It should matter," X insisted. "They're going to be fighting Mavericks too, aren't they? I have concerns about their approach. I don't think GAARD really understands what they're getting into."

"They should, if they've been paying any attention. The Hunters have you and me, and they've still nearly lost twice. Sigma's dangerous. He has a lot of energy behind him. It's enough to make you think Maverickism is popular. Or at least contagious. It has an emotional component, right?"

"Right," said X, who was suddenly finding it difficult to speak.

"Then it's no wonder it spreads like it does, with so many reploids packed so close together. That's what Iris says, anyway."

X couldn't think of any sort of response. He was unsure where, if anywhere, Zero was going with this. He allowed the silence to draw out as they walked; their echoing footsteps on the cold floor were the only sounds.

"GARRD should understand what they're doing," Zero repeated, as if to fill the void. "At least Repliforce will. Colonel knows history. He's like you that way. I wonder if I should try and learn about it. Then I might understand..."

Zero's eyes narrowed. "Hey, X," he said, differently. "If there were only reploids in this world, would there be peace?"

This was unusual. Klaxons were blaring in X's nets. Where had this come from? Zero had mentioned Iris, but surely an empath was too compassionate to think like that. "Probably not," he answered.

"Why not?"

I thought I explained that before, X despaired. Were you listening? "I wish I had time to go over it again, but we're almost at your spar."

"Oh."

"That's Sigma's rhetoric," X said pointedly. "He's the one who wants peace through genocide."

That surprised Zero. "Is it?"

"Where'd you hear it?" X asked.

"She didn't hear it from the Mavericks," Zero insisted. His voice was a plea to be believed.

She. There weren't many shes around the Hunters. It had to be Iris. X didn't know what to think anymore.

"She just..." Zero started to explain, but then he stopped and smiled. "I'm not going to worry about it for now. Now is time for fun."

Out of time- and X hadn't even asked the questions he'd needed answers to. He sighed. "Have fun in- actually... would you mind if I watched?"

"No," said Zero. "It makes no difference to me. You won't learn anything by watching that you haven't learned by sparring with me."

It was the sort of thing Zero would say. That was how he thought. Even so, X couldn't help but hear the words as sinister. Adversarial. "We're not enemies," he said.

"Of course not," Zero said, sounding puzzled. "Come on."

The robots entered the practice room. Both were familiar with it- both spent considerable time there, for others' benefits as often as for their own. Iris and Colonel were already inside, talking by themselves, as was Double, minding his own business in a corner. At Zero's entrance, the twins brightened. "Good to see you, Zero!" boomed Colonel. Iris just smiled.

"Same to you," Zero answered, and his voice was lighter than his norm.

"And a good day to you too, X," Colonel went on politely. Iris' eyes never wavered from Zero.

"The pleasure's mine," said X. "Don't mind me. I'm just watching."

Colonel gave a curt nod before retreating to the wall. When he returned, he was holding two metal rods. "I know you were dissatisfied with the fakes we used last time," he said to Zero. "I was, too. A warrior needs the right tools, and those were poor ones. These are better. They're more balanced, lighter, and more durable. We can have a more rewarding spar with these."

He offered one, hilt first, to Zero. The red warbot took it without a word, but his face told his appreciation clearly. He grasped it and gave it some experimental flourishes, each larger than the last as he grew more comfortable and more assured. "Good," he said- high praise for him. Then he raised the "sword" before his face.

To the astonishment of the others in the room, Zero then lowered it, wrist out, to his waist. Colonel's eyes widened in recognition.

"I'm a fast learner," Zero said. "We can begin whenever you're ready."

Colonel's smile was wide. "Excellent!" He snapped his heels together and returned Zero's salute. "Let's get started, then."

He swished the sword forward into a ready position. Zero draped his over his shoulder and down his back, mimicking the position of his beam saber. "Here I come," he warned.

The two were motionless for a second- another- another- as if the waiting itself were part of the fun. Tick- tick- tick-

Clang.

Iris squealed at the sharp sound. In a blink, the warbots had gone from ready stances to fully engaged, as if the distance between them had vanished. They broke apart again. Zero twirled the sword before returning it to its place. "You were right," he said. "These are better."

"GARRD seems willing to do a lot to keep me happy," Colonel replied. "But we can talk later. _En garde_!"

Another clash, without as much suddenness, and it was followed by another and another until sound and reverberation melded together. The practice room rang full with the fight. They started off almost stationary, engaging with blades alone. It didn't take long before Colonel started to press forward.

X frowned as he engaged his analysis subroutines. He was no expert on sword fighting, since he avoided melee combat in general. Still, he'd had enough practical experience to know a couple of things, and many of the principles of unarmed combat (at which he was adept) maintained.

Colonel's reach was longer. He should have been able to keep Zero at bay, force the smaller robot to take risks to enter his zone. Instead he was closing, putting himself into Zero's zone. He was able to better leverage his mass there, true- but that sort of movement opened opportunities Zero could exploit. X knew full well how ruthless Zero was, how honed his killer instinct was. He could seize even the slightest opening and plunge a beam saber into it.

Zero slid backwards, feet gliding. Always balanced, always controlled. Not with X's economy of motion, necessarily, nor was it graceful like a dancer. His movement was flexible and pure. Every step contained the promise that the next step could be anything. He was so difficult to read, for X. Only Zero's preference for the offensive helped X-

_...now wait a minute._

X's frown deepened.

Zero battered Colonel's weapon away, and went into a retreating whirl. Colonel made a hasty grab for Zero's mane. The hand came away empty, leaving Colonel exposed. Zero completed his circle, blade flashing. It smacked, hard, into Colonel's, knocking it further away from Colonel's body. Colonel retreated with a flash from his dash boots, regained his weapon, and came right back onto the attack.

_That's one and two._

Colonel swung down overhead. Zero met it with violence that shook both of them. Colonel withdrew his sword almost straight back, pivoting his whole torso, then thrust with the full strength of his upper body- too strong to turn, to close to retreat from. Zero spun around the end, letting it flow past him. His return stroke was aimed high, for Colonel's head; Colonel was able to jerk barely away from it.

_There's three._

Too close for blades- Colonel stepped into a punch. Zero took it, despite the mass difference, and pinned Colonel's arm. He tried to bring his sword around for a short-armed stab, but Colonel caught Zero's arm in turn. With the two caught in a tangle of limbs, each turned to the only weapon left available.

Their heads smashed into each other with a crack. The room went still and silent.

_And that's four. Four times Zero could have beaten him. What is he thinking?_

Neither moved, but both smiled broadly. Almost as one they released the clinch and moved away, back to a safe range. "Another draw," Colonel said, relishing the words. "Let's reset."

"Just a minute, if you don't mind," X interjected. The fighters looked to him. He had hidden his concern beneath a normal face. "It's been too long since I've sparred. I really should stay in practice. If you don't mind..."

Zero's eyes lit up. "Do you mean it?"

"I mean, I'd like to spar with Colonel, if that's alright with him," X clarified.

That took Zero by surprise. Colonel nodded. "Certainly! I've heard stories of your legend, as well. I couldn't very well avoid them in this business. It would be an honor to spar with you."

X walked forwards. As he neared Zero, the red warbot whispered, "What are you doing?"

"Confirming something," X replied.

Zero clearly didn't know how to take that. He turned and headed for the sidelines.

"Won't you be needing Zero's practice sword?" Colonel asked.

"That's not my style of combat," X said. His right hand disappeared. A buster muzzle took its place. "I have training modes with this, though."

"Well, far be it from me to ask you to take a handicap," Colonel said. X gave Zero a meaningful look. Zero didn't respond. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," said X, and he didn't wait for another round of greetings or salutes or readiness. He sprang into the air, boosters firing for altitude. Colonel's first step was late, and forward; flat-footed, he was left below X, sword out of position. Pigmented droplets burst from the small Hunter's buster. They rained down on Colonel. Where they impacted his armor, they turned to smoke, confusing the newbuilt. Still in the air, X rocketed forward. Colonel whirled, trying to track his foe. Before he'd even turned around, a fiendishly buzzing projectile was headed for his face. He knocked it down with his saber.

There was no break in the action. Another weapon was coming his way from the side, this one even faster. He was barely able to lunge away from it. Just as it cleared Colonel's body, it made a sound that was possibly the opposite of a boom. Colonel was pulled towards it- and since he'd left his feet to dodge in the first place, there was no way for him to resist. He fell to his hands and knees, sword banging against the floor.

Behind his head, there was a high-pitched glissando. It was the sound a charging X-buster made.

"Round over," said the Avenging Angel.

Iris gasped. Zero frowned. But Colonel- Colonel growled. Twisting as much as he could, he swung his sword at X.

It caught the Maverick Hunter off-guard. Unpleasantly off-guard, if one were to judge by his expression. But after he'd dodged and the danger was past, his usually-controlled temper flared. He fired the charged shot. It struck the sword. The sword didn't melt. It burned, burned to slag in an instant under the onslaught of hungry plasma.

"You're beaten, Colonel," shouted X. "Accept it!"

"I won't."

"There's no dishonor in surrender. Plenty of militaries have capitulated when they couldn't fight any more-"

"I won't!" cried Colonel as he whirled to his feet and lunged. He made contact only with artificial icicles.

"There's no point in going on," X said from a safe distance. "I want to be done."

"Coward," Colonel spat.

X wanted to scream at the newbuilt- scream to him how obviously he was beaten, how any further fighting would only rub that fact in, how this sort of thing made mercy impossible and forced X to kill when he absolutely didn't want to...

The memory of defeated but furious Mavericks came to X's mind. They had kept on fighting because they knew they would die; no quarter could be given, so none was requested. For Colonel to echo that attitude over something so trivial... It was disturbing.

In the corner of X's sight he saw Iris writhing with discomfort. It was how X felt- was she reading Colonel or him? Or both at once?

"A spar is for learning," X said, forcing patience into his voice. "I've learned a lot today. Thank you, Colonel. I'll be leaving now. I have another project I have to finish."

He turned, insides fluttering. Zero was by the door already. X tried not to look at his friend as he approached, but Zero stepped in front to force the issue.

"Why did you do that?" Zero whispered.

"Why didn't you?" X countered. "You could have beaten him half a dozen times. I know you, Zero, I know what you can do. I know you're coddling him. Why?"

"It's fun," Zero said. "It's decent exercise, and he enjoys it as much as I do."

"Your fun is giving him ideas," X accused. "He's a newbuilt, Zero, a raw one. Don't be fooled by his rank and his ability. That mind of his is immature. You're leading him on."

"I don't like what you just did to him," Zero said.

"I sparred with him," X said. "Honestly."

"And you made Iris upset," Zero added as if X hadn't spoken.

"I am sorry about that," X allowed, "but I wouldn't do anything differently."

Zero's face set. "You have a project to be working on, don't you?"

X wanted to object, but he couldn't very well beg out of the spar and then stay there. "Yes," he said reluctantly. "I still need your modeling help."

"I'll drop by later if I have time," Zero said unpromisingly.

X couldn't say anything in reply. The chance had gone. Something had changed with his friend. "See you later," he said. He shut the door to the training room. He heard it shut with his ears, but he felt it shut in his heart.

* * *

"Barnum!" said Dr. Cain. "This is a surprise. Who let you in Hunter Base? I figured you'd be on some sort of list by now."

"Nice to see you, too," said Barnum. He sat down in a chair near Cain, his overburdened frame jiggling. He wiped the sweat from his brow. "You're hidden pretty deep in this place."

"Well, we wouldn't want anyone to know I'm here. I have a reputation, I hear. I'm so embarrassing."

"I won't argue that point. Dare I ask why you're wearing oven mitts?"

"You noticed, eh? I'm training myself not to touch things."

"You're joking."

"It turns out I can still use a mouse pretty well. Keyboards are a problem. Touchscreens are a no-go, but batons are just fine. And I appreciate paper books more these days. So I suppose it's not too effective as training."

Barnum shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. "I remember how the dean used to describe you. 'Some people march to the beat of a different drummer, but Dr. Cain's drummer is from a different planet'. It's just as true today as it was back then."

"They say flattery will get you anywhere, but," Cain raised an enmittened hand, "there aren't many places I can take you."

"This is all your own fault," Barnum said. "Everyone in robotics knew it, even the ones that never met you. Everyone knew you couldn't stay out of trouble."

"Yes, yes," said Cain gravely. "Look at this horrible place I've ended up- this lab dedicated to studying technology I pioneered, peopled by beings derived from my designs. Truly an awful fate."

"And you wearing oven mitts."

"Moses was forbidden from entering the Promised Land," Cain said conversationally. "He stood up to a mighty empire to free his people, then dragged them across deserts for forty years... and after all that, he wasn't allowed to enter their new paradise. But do you think that means he never smiled? I imagine him sitting on a mountain, watching the tribes of Israel settle and prosper, and thinking to himself: I did that."

"Oh, _god_ ," said Barnum, rolling his whole face along with his eyes. "Your narcissism just kills me."

"But here you are, subjecting yourself to it."

"I was trying to be sociable. I thought you could use the company of another ex-roboticist."

It was a detail Cain, sharp as ever, couldn't miss. "Ex?"

Barnum wiped his face again. "I can't deal with this anymore," he said. "Do you remember what I looked like, back when I was a grad student?"

"You didn't weigh this much, that's for sure," Cain said. "If I'm guessing where you're going with this."

Barnum nodded. "Most of this is in just the last five years. Working for GARRD doesn't agree with me."

"You always told me you needed a more structured environment than academia." Cain laughed. "You told me _I_ needed a more structured environment than academia."

"I've been wrong before," Barnum admitted. "And I will be again. I don't think I expected it to be quite this structured."

"Fair enough."

"In fact, I think I'm done with robotics altogether. I just..." Barnum looked down. "My job of late has been monitoring Colonel's performance. What's the point? The decision's already been made that he's a one-off. Gerry tried to recruit me to the General project; they're going to start with some of my discarded designs for Colonel, just to save time. But every time I think about what I'd do with General, all I see is..."

"...Colonel?"

"Iris."

Cain's eyebrows went up. "Really?"

Barnum couldn't meet Cain's eyes. "Colonel said something that's been bothering me. He said that a robot's fate is built into its design. I'm not sure I believe all of that, but... Iris hadn't hit Moulson's threshold when we got to her. She wasn't a person, yet. So whatever befalls her now, it's because we- I- built this link into her. I burdened her with something she didn't deserve. For my convenience, damn it all."

"I won't apologize," Cain said.

"Oh for crying out loud, this isn't about you! No matter what you said, it wasn't your decision, and if I'd wanted to I could have thrown you out on your ear." Barnum tried to smile. "I think I'd have enjoyed that, actually. Missed opportunity. But the point is that the choice was mine, and Iris paid for it."

Cain shrugged. "She seems to be doing alright."

"I hope she does. But if she doesn't..." He took a deep breath, one which caused his whole body to heave. "I've never felt like this before. I've built plenty of robots. Some of them did what I wanted, others didn't, but I never felt... ugh, I don't know how to put it. Discontent, I guess. She could probably tell me better than I could."

"So now you're soured on the whole discipline, eh?"

"For a while, at least."

"I wonder what that's like," Cain said. "Even at my most discouraged, I never thought of doing anything other than robotics. It's too close to who I am. I could never give it up."

"Some people thought you did, when you became an archaeologist," Barnum said.

Cain gave Barnum a wicked smile. "How else could I get funding to search for Dr. Light's last capsule?"

"I knew it!" said Barnum, smacking his thigh. "I knew it was too big of a coincidence for you, of all people, to stumble on X. You were looking the whole time and the fossil search was a front."

"I'm actually relieved I can admit that now. I've got nothing to hide at this point. Nothing left to lose." Once more he raised a hand.

"That looks so ridiculous."

"It's just for training."

"Is it better training when it's plaid?"

"No, just more fashionable. So... do you have a non-robotics job lined up?"

"Yes, actually. Engineering oversight on Sky Lagoon."

"Sky Lagoon? That floating monstrosity of an economic center? The thing that gave new meaning to 'vertical integration'? The thing that was supposed to reduce transport costs by flying to its customers, except its makers couldn't actually do math?"

Barnum grinned. "I didn't sign on to work the business case."

"Touché. I suppose it is a good fit for you. You always did love macro-engineering."

"And it doesn't get much more macro than this," Barnum said with a nod. "Not counting Eurasia, but I'm not adventurous enough for space. At least Sky Lagoon is reasonably close to the ground. Much safer."

"I don't know about that. But it is a big job."

"That's alright. So long as I have a little wiggle room to do it my way, I'll be fine. And it's a lot less personal than robotics. Just big dumb engines." He laughed. "That was the criticism of my first Colonel design. 'Too big, too simple.' And now they're falling back to that for General. What a crazy world we live in."

"That's for sure. I wish you the best of luck, Barnum."

"Hopefully I won't need it. I'd shake your hand here, but..."

"Jerk," said Cain jovially.

"See you around."

* * *

Zero looked through the Hunter Base vehicle bay. He didn't know what he was looking for. Anything to reverse the slide of his mood- but there was nothing. Nothing could be as entertaining as the spar, tainted though it had been by X's unexpected participation.

These were strange times, he noted, when X showing up could make his day worse.

At least there was still some thin hope that this patrol might find some Mavericks. That would turn this day around. Otherwise...

_What are you doing? Why are you wasting your time?_

The questions were getting clearer, now, and they cut deeper. It was encouraging and troubling both.

"Sir," said a passing Hunter.

"Cruz," Zero acknowledged without turning. It wasn't until the other Hunter was past him that Zero realized the interchange had been bizarre. He whirled on the spot. "You are Cruz, senior Hunter in Third Squad, seven months of service," he said. "Right?"

"Right," said Cruz, and he was as surprised as Zero.

Zero's eyes went wide.

He scanned around the bay, identifying reploids as he went. Tomcat, Fourth Squad, strong opinions on feraloids in the Hunters. Ben, disgraced Operator, retrained as equipment manager. Douglas, armorer, rapidly promoted since the Third Maverick War and in line for senior positions.

On he went, names and ages and traits popping up immediately as reploids came into his vision. It wasn't perfect, he missed a few, but his success rate was still over seventy percent. That was miraculous.

He was gasping by the time he was done. How did he remember all of this? He must have gathered this information before and simply been unable to access it. Until now. What had changed? What happened?

"Sir, we're ready to go when you are."

Zero jerked in surprise. "Oh... the patrol. Right..." Without any more looking around, lest he be distracted, he climbed into the passenger seat of the van. His situational awareness dimmed slightly. He was consumed by matters of the mind.

His memory had been improving over time, Zero had to admit. When he'd initially joined the Hunters, the only names that could ever really stick were X and Sigma. By the First War he could remember his squad. By the Third he could remember Operators, Commanders, the other squad leaders, and a few of the Azzles. This, though, was a step-change in his abilities.

He did have an immaculate self-repair system. Had it been slowly stitching his memory back together? Come to think of it... the vision that haunted his dreams was becoming clearer and clearer over time. He hadn't heard the voice at first, and now that was pristine. There were more and more vivid images. Zero didn't know if he liked it, but it was absolutely happening.

What else would he remember, if his repairs ever finished?

"Boss? Aren't you going to change the route?"

Oh- that was something he usually did. He had no time for it today. "It'll be fine," he said.

The patrol leader reacted, but Zero never saw it. He had other concerns.

"Base, Zeroth Squad, ready to depart."

"Zeroth, Base, understood. Depart when ready."

That got Zero's attention, even with his memory such an open concern. He transmitted over his own system, one that had no analogue in the stock reploid Hunters around him. "Iris?"

"That's right."

"Channel fifty," he ordered. He was there as soon as he'd told her.

"I'm here, Zero."

"Can you monitor multiple channels at once?"

"Yes."

He relaxed. "I'm passing you some encryption. We'll use this channel just for us. We'll use it to privately keep in touch, even when we're both on mission."

"Yes," Iris agreed. "That is something we both want."

It was- he did want that. Well and truly. "I'll ask for you to be Zeroth Squad's Operator full time," he said.

Her tinkling laugh sounded almost as good over the radio as it did in person. "That's already happened. Commander Grant wrote that into my assignment."

Zero closed his eyes. "Good." He felt his mouth moving- oh. He was smiling, wasn't he?

And he should be. This might be one of the best days he'd ever had. The spar in the morning, now a patrol with Iris working with him, and in the evening he'd have time to drive her somewhere- maybe teach her a thing or two about the Z-saber...

He opened his eyes. Around him, Zeroth Squad was staring at him. "What?"

"Are you... ready? Sir?"

"Yes," he said, slightly flustered. "Start the patrol."

The van went into motion. Zero made no other actions, and slowly the other Hunters' attention drifted away. Once he wasn't the center of attention, the smile crept back on to Zero's face. He didn't care what the other Hunters thought, anyway. This was a great day.

Only one thing could make it better.

"Iris," he transmitted, "revise our route. Send us through areas which give us the maximum possible chance of coming under Maverick attack."

"Can do," Iris said eagerly.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	8. Chapter 8

"...after three days, a Greek traitor showed the Persians a goat path that brought them around the rear of the Spartan position. The Spartans, who had resisted the full might of the Persian army, could not withstand this. Nevertheless no Spartan showed any willingness to surrender. They fought and died to the very last man, extracting a grievous toll on the Persians right to the bitter end.

"Historians still disagree as to which hurt the Persians more: the delay the Spartans imposed, which gave the Greeks time to ready their cities' defenses, or the inspiration and example they gave all Greeks by their sacrifice..."

Colonel looked up, breaking the flow of the narrative. How did he keep finding this sort of story? There were thousands of years of military history at his fingertips, but his search for martial glory kept turning up examples with no survivors. He dismissed the story of Thermopylae. Time to try again- something more modern, maybe. Something where military glory spilled over into popular culture. There had to be survivors for that kind of crossover, right? Right.

His search turned up a popular phrase: "Remember the Alamo". That seemed promising. Where had that come from?

"...as General Houston retreated before Santa Ana's Mexicans, he sent a small contingent to a mission known as the Alamo. His goal was to threaten Santa Ana's flanks and so force him to split his army. This would weaken Santa Ana while Houston gathered reinforcements. To his surprise, Santa Ana invested the Alamo with his full army. When the Texans at the Alamo refused to surrender, Santa Ana had black flags paraded around his camp. It was an explicit threat that no mercy would be shown if the Texans stayed and fought..."

Colonel could see where this was going. Again. He skipped ahead. "...the defenders of the Alamo were revered as heroes, even martyrs for the cause of Texan independence. The phrase "Remember the Alamo" became the movement's rallying cry, both celebrating their sacrifice and reminding the rebels to show no mercy to a foe that had shown none..."

 _Again._ He kept on doing this- finding and fixating on case studies that all ended the same way. Why did this keep happening? He knew he was going to die, he didn't need to be constantly reminded of the fact. He liked to think he'd come to terms with his fate. That should have meant he didn't need to dwell on it. Reminders just seemed to pop up everywhere he looked.

He'd tried to look for war poetry, hoping for a more aesthetic lens to look at things. The first entry he found was "The Charge of the Light Brigade". He'd looked at medal citations, thinking those would show him the purest distillations of valor. The most striking feature he noticed was how many of the awards were given posthumously. That even went for the medals given to medics- why, those were worst of all. They were all medics throwing themselves on grenades, and medics shielding the bodies of their patients with their own, and medics exposing themselves to fire to reach the wounded...

Colonel shook his head. Try something else. Focus on something else, something useful. Small-unit tactics, that was the thing. Something even more modern, so that the lessons would apply to the Maverick Wars. He was tired of reading about 19xx small wars, though. A big war, maybe? Yes- the Pacific War, that would do it. He hadn't looked at that war much, yet.

He was ten minutes into his research when he found the quote that stopped him. "If 500 Japs were holding a hill, we had to kill 495 of them before it was ours- and the last five killed themselves."

"I don't need to read about that!" Colonel exclaimed. He pushed away from the desk and turned his back on it. Really! Was he just uncommonly good at finding this sort of thing, or was the universe sending him a none-too-subtle message? Well, it could stop. He already knew he was doomed. There was no advantage- no point- in him angsting over it; that just made it harder for him to engineer a death that would matter. He had to find something he could focus on.

He was aware, dimly, of a different feeling in his head, a lighter one, an alien one. It made him angry. It wasn't his, he didn't want it, why wouldn't it go away?

The anger couldn't last. Anger at this feeling was anger at its source, which was Iris. He couldn't be angry at Iris, especially when she didn't mean anything by it. She was just existing, in a way that let Colonel exist, too. That didn't deserve his wrath. Inspired, he went the other way instead. He unblocked the connection completely. He dove into these other-emotions.

He felt Iris, a little bit, but mostly he felt the people around her. It was disconnected, sensation without sense. Sound and fury, signifying nothing. Then again, he didn't need it to make sense. He wasn't trying to derive some meaning from it. He couldn't hear a signal in the noise. He wasn't Iris. She bent to these feelings, but he didn't. That wasn't their purpose, anyway. This panchromatic swirl of feeling- it all existed just to communicate one message.

Other people matter.

Yes, he thought, agreeing slowly. Another person matters.

Colonel went back to his desk. He turned his monitor off, then made a phone call. "Hunter Base? Yes, I need to speak to Zero. I want to set up a spar."

* * *

Grant's eyes scanned the document in front of him. From time to time, his eyes rose to peek at X. The android had a look Grant had seen plenty of times before- that of someone trying to paper over their anxiety with forced patience. "How did you come up with this?" asked Grant.

"I can simulate and model... very well," X said. Grant recognized the hitch. It was what happened when X meant to say, "better than anyone", but wouldn't allow anything so self-aggrandizing to escape his lips.

"So you took it upon yourself to simulate how Repliforce might be a threat..."

"No," said X. He flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry for interrupting, but... this isn't about Repliforce. It's about Sigma. This report is a list of things he might do."

"That's a distinction without a difference," Grant argued. "Look here. Your very first item is for Sigma to recruit Mavericks out of Repliforce. If there were no Repliforce, that wouldn't be a problem."

"By that logic, if there were no Sigma, there'd be no problem. Sir, the point of this exercise isn't to wish for a better situation, it's to understand what Sigma's options are."

"For Repliforce," Grant said again.

"With regards to Repliforce," X corrected. "They're the object. Sigma is the enemy."

"Yes, yes, of course. Sigma's always an enemy."

Grant saw X start to try to speak. No sound came out. "Come on, X, I don't want you to just defer to me. You didn't when you brought this paper to up the chain."

"Do you have any questions, sir?" said X.

It was as clear a disengage as Grant had ever heard. The human decided to honor it. "And you have the scenarios ordered by probability," Grant said by way of compliment. "Very readable. I would've loved to have you on my staff, say, twenty-six years ago."

"I'm at your disposal, sir."

"It's good to hear that. You're the one I'm sure I can trust."

"Just me?" X asked, sounding hurt.

"So... there are others you're sure you can trust," Grant inferred.

X nodded vigorously.

"Really? Name one."

"Zero."

"Is that a fact? Even as close as he is to GARRD and Repliforce?"

"Unconditionally," X insisted.

Grant could feel X's sincerity. He huffed. "Alright, fine. Just him?"

"And others," X said more vaguely.

"If I'd asked you that question before the Third War, would Mack have been on your list?"

X seemed to withdraw into himself, like he was willing away his tells. "This is a leading question," he said in dead tones. "You're trying to ensure I'm paranoid."

"'Sensitized' is the word I'd use," Grant replied.

"My helmet's on," X said meaningfully.

Grant had to give him that. "And you brought this to me," he said, fingering the report. "That's a good sign." He looked down at it again. "Most likely scenario: Sigma seduces and recruits Mavericks out of Repliforce.'"

"It's what he does," X said, opening back up. "Sigma's prideful. Nothing would make him happier than to take an organization designed to end him and make it his. He'd see it as proof of his power and influence."

"Plus, it puts the Hunters in conflict with Repliforce," Grant observed.

"That's a theme you'll see," X said. "Sigma would love for us to fight each other- it damages us and our credibility both, all without him having to spend his forces. It's a big danger, which is why a lot of these scenarios have Hunters-versus-Repliforce as either a cause or effect."

"Good."

X frowned. "What's good about that?"

"Coincidentally," Grant asked, "did you simulate what would happen if Repliforce and the Hunters did fight?"

"Sort of. Appendix bee talks about how conflict might escalate or deescalate, and how misunderstandings might propagate, and what overrides from the civilian command structure would have to be in place to-"

"-and I'm sure that's all lovely," Grant said, not quite dismissively. "It's not what I was asking about. What I want to know is: who'd win?"

X blanched. "That's not something- I didn't think about that."

"Your helmet's off, then. Put it back on and talk to me again."

X squirmed. "I don't know enough about Repliforce's numbers or firepower."

An obvious dodge, semi-truthful at best. "Infer. Remember, their mandate is to fight Mavericks across the country, not just in Abel City, so they'd have to be sized for that. That's different from us- we're concentrated in this city. The Hunters in other cities are parallel organizations, not under my command. We can't count on them. They have other responsibilities."

"Repliforce would have numbers, then," X allowed. "I couldn't say by how much, but they would. Our advantage would be in experience, but that edge fades quickly, especially if the conflict happens after Repliforce has been online for a while. But the Hunters do have a trump card."

"What?"

X looked deeply uncomfortable, but he forced himself to speak. "Zero and me."

He left it at that, but any commander of the Hunters would understand. Hell, thought Grant, almost anyone on the planet would get X's drift. Somehow, the truth was even grander than the legends.

When the Hunters were all but destroyed by betrayal and rebellion, X and Zero had broken the most dire revolt almost unaided. Then X had faced down the X-Hunters and retired them with a cadre of lime-green Hunters as his only backup. Then X and Zero had stormed Dopplertown, an entire metropolis of entrenched Mavericks, and razed it to the ground. In between, they'd survived several major battles and countless skirmishes. It seemed like there was no limit to their abilities.

Trump card indeed.

"If we were called upon to defeat Repliforce," X said, visibly hating his words, "we could probably do it."

"That's comfor- probably?"

"There exists a level of firepower we can't match. We're just two Hunters on foot. We can't fight heavy artillery. Still, I can't imagine they'd have anything too crazy. Collateral damage is always a concern for us, it'd have to be the same for Repliforce."

Grant wondered about that. What he'd seen of Repliforce couldn't be their whole budget. The actual number was classified, but Grant could do basic algebra. Well, he'd shelve that thought for now. "I see. I know that exercise made you uncomfortable, but it's something we have to think about. This is a good document. I just want it to be complete." He looked down at it again. "Let's see... assassinate Repliforce leadership, attack Repliforce civilian control- both resulting in confusion and possible rogue actions- frame Repliforce for atrocity, stage a false-flag Hunter-Repliforce ambush... it's a sordid list."

X nodded, distressed. "It's nothing beyond what Sigma could or would do. He's devolved. He's turned into someone who murders pacifists for setting a bad example. There's not much he'd regret doing."

Grant put the report down. "I can already tell what I need to do with this. I need to get it to Mr. Green."

X started. "What? Why? What would he need it for?"

"Let me tell you a story," Grant said, folding his hands. "Once upon a time, there was a country with an army and a navy that both had proud, noble traditions. Then airplanes came along, and both the army and the navy bought airplanes. Agitators in the military argued that the airplanes should be put in a separate, equal arm- an air force. Well, time went on, and eventually they got their way. An air force was created. Can you guess what was the very first thing the new air force did?"

"No. What?"

"It declared the army and navy obsolete and tried to kill them to loot their budgets."

X's eyes widened. "You're going to use my analysis to play politics?"

Grant's expression hardened. "A budget manager's first duty is to defend his budget. Money makes the world go 'round, X- everything takes money, and there's never, ever enough. You and I both believe that the Hunters are necessary to check Sigma. If we don't fight for our budget, there are no Maverick Hunters- they can't exist."

"I withdraw my report," X said.

"Too late."

"I didn't put it together to be used as a weapon- certainly not as a weapon to get money."

Grant pointed at X's forearm. "Anyone carrying the "variable tool system" knows damn well that everything is a weapon."

X held his arms behind his back. "I wanted to make sure we _avoided_ conflict with Repliforce. You- you're seeking it out!"

"In a different arena. I don't want to fight Repliforce, either- but the way to avoid fighting them is to beat them bureaucratically. And if that bothers you, well, you should know that they attacked first. Remember my story? The whole premise of Repliforce is that the Hunters can't be trusted. If they had their way they'd disband the Hunters to free up our budget to add to theirs. Gerry told me that herself. We need to use their argument against them- showing how Repliforce could be a danger is an argument for keeping the Hunters."

X looked hollow, haggard. Grant felt pity for him. "X, I don't enjoy this. It's not fun. It's just reality at this level of politics. Politics is about picking winners and losers. And if the Hunters aren't winning, the Mavericks are."

"Winning," X repeated. "I heard... I heard..."

"Yes?"

"I heard you ordered a revision to our Hunting rules of engagement," X said. "A broader definition of Maverickism, lower thresholds for force, more license for seeking out Maverick activity... It's a show to say we're winning, isn't it? Oh, my... Sir, I have a question. I know how squads are graded. How are the Hunters as a whole graded?"

Grant crossed his arms. "How would you grade us?" he challenged.

"We succeed when there's peace. Every attack that doesn't happen is a credit to us. Every life not wasted, every..."

He trailed off under Grant's disapproving gaze. "Not good enough," he said. "You can't claim credit for non-events. I could just as easily say it's the Hunters that keep us from flying into the sun, and point to every day the Earth doesn't fly into the sun as proof it's working. Ridiculous. If you want to prove something to your boss, you need something real. You have to count actual things."

"Like dead Mavericks?" X said quietly.

"We set the baseline," he said. "We need to put it high enough that Repliforce can't match it. That's how we keep the Hunters intact."

X looked down.

"What's on your mind, X? I know you want to say something."

"In your time in the military, did you ever hear the saying, "You get what you inspect"?"

"Once or twice."

X sighed. "If you demand the Hunters kill more Mavericks, they'll have to try. They can't disobey. But what do you suppose will happen if they can't find any more genuine Mavericks to Hunt?"

Grant rapped the paper of X's report against his desk. "Thanks for bringing this to me..."

"Don't try to evade this, sir, hear me out. I can't stop you from using my report. But I can choose not to follow an immoral order."

"Who's saying anything about immoral orders?" Grant growled.

"You will be, if you oblige us to kill just to bring our numbers up. That's what I mean. You were going to set us quotas, weren't you?"

Grant felt wounded. Then he felt angry. "Don't make me lose my trust in you, X. I need you on my side."

"I'm not on your side," X said matter-of-factly. "My loyalties aren't personal."

"That's how you end up alone."

"I was alone for a hundred years. There are crueler fates."

Grant's voice became formal. "You are a member of the Hunters. I expect you to act like one."

"And I will. Though I suspect you and I define that differently."

"You shall follow the new guidelines. You and your squad shall meet your quotas or face disciplinary action. You shall set the example for all other Hunters."

Before his eyes, X became a statue. "Haley Paschal found she could not compel me, and with all due respect, sir, you are no Haley Paschal."

"You're right, I'm not dead," snapped Grant. "But the Hunters will be if you don't comply."

"If the Maverick Hunters are built on a foundation of murder, the organization should die."

Grant heaved a frustrated breath. "Easy for you to say!"

"I'm not a budget manager. My first priority is not to defend my budget. My first priority is to be sword and shield for those who cannot protect themselves."

"Hiding behind ideology to avoid reality? That kind of thinking will keep you from advancing. You'll never rise beyond squad leader if you won't care about these things."

X smiled tightly. "I've spent years turning down your job, Commander. Exactly because I don't _want_ to care about these things. I want to focus on doing right by me."

"Fine," Grant huffed. "You know what? You do that. Just know that when you drag the rest of the Hunters down with you, it's your fault."

X's principled serenity faltered. "Drag them down?"

"Don't you know? The other Hunters follow your lead. Their loyalties appear to be personal."

X looked like he'd bitten into something sour. "That's not what I want."

"Well, guess what? As you've so kindly shown me, you can't always get what you want."

X looked down, almost guiltily, before giving Grant a sheepish expression. "I hope we can still work together. We can have a good relationship even if we don't always agree, right?"

"I don't know," said Grant.

"But we do both want to beat the Mavericks," X insisted.

"Do we? Do you?"

"I'm here," X said, as if that decided it.

"Then answer me this. If Repliforce were declared Maverick, would you hunt them?"

X steadied himself. "If Repliforce went Maverick, I would hunt them."

"Interesting distinction," Grant noted.

X didn't move.

"I suppose that's all I could ask for, isn't it? You stubborn little robot."

X shrugged. "It runs in my family."

There was no more ground to be gained. "You're dismissed," Grant said with a hand wave. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. He followed X's retreat with hearing alone. Footsteps, door open, footsteps, "Double! What are you-" door shut.

Grant took a tired breath. Maybe X was right. Maybe there was nothing necessary about Repliforce and the Maverick Hunters coming to blows. Grant's air force analogy had a decent ending- things had settled down, in the end, and all the services had come to their proper places, competing but contributing. They coexisted.

This was what Sigma did to people. He made them see treason everywhere. No reason to let him have his way.

But...

Grant's eyes went back down to X's analysis. He saw all the ways Repliforce and the Hunters could wind up opposed. _There can be only one._

No. If the Hunters didn't kill Repliforce, Repliforce would kill the Hunters. Fiscally or physically. X might not like it, but that was reality.

So Grant should do as X advised: instead of wishing for a better situation, he needed to understand what his foes might do, and plan accordingly.

He called Mr. Green's secretary. "Heather? Yes, this is Commander Grant. I need to arrange a time to present a report..."

* * *

Sigma flexed, moved, jumped- adapted to his new body. It had been a long time coming, even with all the resources of the Mavericks. Maverick Prime would not accept anything less than the best- but since the best parts were always in short supply, always so difficult for the Mavericks to actually procure, that meant he had to wait.

Still, it was worth it. Sigma wouldn't let them see an inferior, normal model as their leader. They would see a metal god. That was what he felt like. Each action was smooth. He buzzed with power. He ran from one side of the room to the other, experimentally. The body answered his call instantly, eagerly. He laughed at the ease of it.

"Good," he purred. "Very good. You have done well. This body is worthy of me."

The Mavericks around him fairly swelled with pride. "Now," he went on," I'll need a weapon."

One reploid walked forward, a metal pole in his hands. He was moving tentatively, fearfully. Sigma didn't blame him. Sigma had had to... _inconvenience_ the last Maverick to present him with an inadequate weapon. Still, if this weapon were actually worth his time, he'd expect its maker to be more prideful than this.

"Here, Master," the weaponeer said. "It's a scythe."

"A scythe?"

The weaponeer shrank back a step, but he kept the weapon fully extended towards Sigma. "A polearm with a curved blade perpendicular to the staff. It has some other features, too..."

Sigma stepped forward and took it. The weaponeer knew where his hands would be, and had built controls into it at the right spots. Clever. Sigma touched one and an energy blade ignited from near the head of the scythe.

"An original design?" Sigma asked.

"It... it was originally used by humans for farming," the weaponeer admitted. Around him the other Mavericks scowled, but the weaponeer hurriedly added, "But it's also the traditional weapon of Death. In human mythology, Death uses a scythe to reap humans' souls..."

He trailed off under the weight of the staring of those around him. He fully expected to be eviscerated, Sigma was sure. Suggesting that Sigma wield a _human_ weapon...

Sigma smiled. "The weapon of human nightmares is a worthy weapon for me," he said.

The dynamic of the room reversed. The vindicated weaponeer glowed, while those around him sank into jealousy. "Master," said a newly-entering Maverick, "I know you had put this time aside, but this report just came in. It's from our new agent in the Hunters."

Sigma gave a nod, allowing the Maverick to approach. The data pad was held forth like an offering. Sigma took it. Skimmed it. Became giddy at the thought of it.

List of Probable Maverick Responses to Repliforce, New Guidelines for Maverick Hunter Activities, and a list of those closest to Zero…

"Be sure to communicate my gratitude to my agent," Sigma said. "This information is beyond price. With it we will strike at the heart of the humans' defenders."

The Maverick nodded and withdrew. No one else needed to know what Sigma knew. No one else needed to know that causing Repliforce and the Hunters to fight was only one of his goals. Not even the most important one, given what his research had uncovered. Zero- ah, Sigma knew the truth now. Zero was the lever, and this coming war would put the end of that lever beneath the world.

Sigma turned his attention to the weaponeer. "This scythe will serve me well," he said, "but this information is a better weapon."

The weaponeer's pride inverted. Sigma could see him burning. "I'll do better," he promised, choking on the words.

"I know you will," Sigma said. "I can't wait to see it."

He cackled and turned to exercise the scythe.

* * *

Beam sabers hissed and crackled against one another. The fighters had no more use for proxies. They would use the real thing, or nothing. It had been Zero's suggestion, but Colonel quickly adopted it. It was, he said, the only way for the two to be honest with each other.

Zero hadn't replied to that, except to draw his saber.

They were alone. No Iris or X to spectate. No Repliforce minders watching over them with cameras. Just two warbots and the fight. All things as they should be.

Except...

Zero batted Colonel's saber aside with ease. "You can do better than this."

Colonel didn't press, or pile in with his usual relentlessness. He went to a ready stance.

"You've fought me harder before this," Zero went on, going so far as to lower his guard to make his point. "You're not giving me your all."

"It's still enough to keep you at bay," Colonel said. "I'm strong enough for that. The loss to X was just a fluke." Zero didn't reply, and Colonel's gaze and weapon soon dropped. "You're right. I have something on my mind."

"What?"

Colonel extinguished his saber. "It's a good thing no one's here, Zero. I want to speak to you frankly, as one warbot to another."

Zero also put out his saber to match Colonel, even though he didn't understand what was happening. He was no Iris. "Okay."

Colonel smiled wryly. "I'd heard that true warriors were supposed to be able to communicate by fighting. I didn't believe it. I know it's not true now. I'm... not great with words, but I'll try. Zero, Iris really likes being with you."

He nodded. "She said so."

"I know so. I can feel how happy she is around you. But more than that, I can feel that you like her in return. I don't know if she's told you this, but... that's unusual."

Zero frowned. "I would think... if I could bring myself to like her, other people would, too. I'm the slow one about this sort of thing."

"I know this for a fact," Colonel said. "No one can hide their feelings from Iris, and if I know who Iris is with, that person can't hide their feelings from me, either. I haven't always known who she's talking to, so it's been hard for me to understand... I have to try and ignore the input I get from her when it's not making sense. It's harder than it sounds. But when I do know...Back during our socialization, she kept feeling disappointment from other people. Or skepticism, or at best neutrality. It's been the same since, though I haven't always known from who. Other people, but the same sense. It's been different from you. That's how I know how much she means to you."

"You didn't need empathy to tell that," Zero said. "I gave her one of my sabers."

Colonel nodded appreciatively. "Do you believe that "a warrior's soul is his sword'?"

No," said Zero. "And I hate metaphor, but I do understand what you mean. It was..." he shrugged. "The best I knew how to do."

"I'm glad," Colonel said. "Iris has always felt like she doesn't belong, like she's only here so that I can work. It's true, but that doesn't mean she should feel bad about it. So... I want you to promise to me, as a soldier, that you'll keep on making her happy."

"I can't promise that," Zero said. "She could die tomorrow, if a Maverick got into Hunter Base."

"I know. What I mean is, make her happy for as long as you can."

"How am I supposed to do that?" said Zero. "I don't know what happiness is for me, let alone anyone else."

"Care for her, as best you can," Colonel said. "That's enough. No one else will, and she needs that from someone. I can't. Duty keeps me away. But you can."

"It doesn't come naturally to me."

"It doesn't need to."

"You don't know what you're asking for," Zero said. "If you knew, you wouldn't have asked."

"All I'm asking for is for you to treat her like you have been. It's been enough to make her happy. I do know what I'm asking, Zero. If you'd felt even the slightest bit of ill will to Iris, I'd have felt it by now- and I would have decapitated you."

Zero chose not to challenge that.

"Care for her like you're already doing," Colonel said. "That's what I'm asking you to do. Keep doing that. She needs it."

"And her well-being matters to you. It would. You're connected."

"I'm doomed," Colonel said. "I've long-since accepted that. I don't need anything for myself. But I do want nice things for my sister."

Zero looked sternly at Colonel- and, finally, his countenance cracked. "I do, too," he admitted.

"Then can I count on you?"

"Yes."

"Swear it to me," Colonel said, and with a crackle his saber re-ignited. He saluted with the burning-bright beam. "On your honor."

Zero had no honor, he knew, but he returned the salute. "I swear I will take care of Iris," he said. "I'll take care of her until the very end."

Colonel smiled, broadly, genuinely. "Thank you, Zero. I know I can count on you."

* * *

In a hidden Maverick staging area, Sigma laughed.

* * *

_Fin_


	9. Epilogue

Thanks for reading "Broken Glass". Welcome to the epilogue. As usual this will be in question-and-answer-

_This can't be the end!_

Beg your pardon?

_You can't end it like that! Sigma cackles and you fade to black? What kind of ending is that?_

Er...

_What about Double? And Rekir? What happens with Zero's memory? What happens to GAARD and Grant and everyone else?_

...but we know what happens to most of them already.

_Huh?_

This is an X4 prequel. We know what happens from here, because it's in the game action. I prefer to keep my stories "canon-plausible", wherein I try to fit to the canon even when I'm showing what happens outside canon sources. At least I don't contradict the canon (to a point; hold that thought); when I'm at my best I amplify it. That's why I can end the story here: because you know what happens next.

At least, that's what I thought at the time. But then I wrote an X4 rewrite anyway, "Shattered", because I can't help myself and *I* wanted to see more of these characters, too. Plus, I wanted to really sell the importance of the Zero-Iris relationship. X and Zero are supposed to be badly shaken by the Repliforce war. Zero in particular is so broken up from killing Iris that he...

_...never mentions her again?_

Aaaaand here's where I break from canon. The X series games, right up until X5, seemed to have such a bright, clear line connecting them. All of it was pointing to what Zero was and would become. X2 teased it, X3 prophesied it, and X4 set it up: Zero, having lost his faith by his murder of Iris, would remember at last who he was and why he was built, usurp Sigma's place as Maverick Prime, and force a final confrontation between the last progeny of Wily and Light. It was so obvious! Instead, X5 went in a completely different direction- one that I've never been particularly fond of.

Don't get me wrong- I understand that the Maverick Virus is the actual canon, and the basis for later games and the Zero series, and the retroactive explanation for the earlier games. I also understand that a lot of people have written some solid cosmic horror using the virus; I've dabbled in that from time to time. Cosmic horror isn't really my thing, though. I like personal drama, ethical problems, and villains who are people. That's what I thought I had with X1-X4, and I'd become heavily invested (personally) in that being so. So I replaced the actual X5 with "A Heavy Load to Bear" in order to preserve X1-X4 for non-virus storytelling. That makes AHLtB my most important story, even if I wouldn't call it my best.

_So much for "canon plausible". You can't claim that and say there's no virus._

If you'd never played X5 would you know there's a virus? No, you wouldn't.

_...you started writing before you played X5? What kind of lame fan are you?_

Moving on.

_So what's your AU called?_

It's not an AU.

_There's no virus!_

Okay, fine. Truth be told I'd never thought about it until recently, given my affinity for canon-plausible. Essentially I was trying to have it both ways- to ignore the virus MacGuffin while explaining how all the canon events are still consistent. I suppose that's one definition of alternate universe. Ugh.

If you forced me to give a name, I'd call it "The Legacy of Cain", partially because Dr. Cain is the person who changed the course of history (by searching for and finding X) but mostly because it would amuse Laryna6. And having written so many stories that fit together has ancillary benefits, too. I've pre-established both characterizations (e.g. Alia, Cain) and additional characters (Altern, Rekir, Paschal) that I can draw on when needed.

_Speaking of additional characters, what's up with the humans in this story?_

Part of my ongoing project is to put humans back into the plot. One of the ironies of the X series is that the Hunters are fighting to save humanity, but there are no human characters. Humans are as narratively inert as the virus. A personal goal of mine is to ensure that humans not only have a say in whether or not they survive, but whether or not they deserve to survive. This manifests in human characters as diverse as Green, Barnum, and Dr. Cain.

_You do like writing for Dr. Cain._

I do! Which is funny, because in the games he's Mr. Exposition Head, more plot device than character. (Characteristically, he's also the only human to appear on-screen in the whole series.) I've had good fun putting together a character based off of the little we know about him, and he's one of the most consistent characterizations I've had.

_As opposed to...?_

Well, Zero. When I first started writing, in stories like "Zero Sum" and "Consequences" and even AHLtB, I had Zero do a lot of talking. This wasn't because I thought he was verbose, necessarily. It was to heighten the contrast with X who, let's face it, doesn't say a whole lot from X1-X4. Zero being talkative was more of a reflection of X being quiet than anything about Zero himself; he was just filling the void X left. Over time, my characterization of Zero has shifted a bit (and of X, too, to a lesser extent). One thing's for sure, I'd never have Zero mock *X's* social awkwardness these days.

_Then why don't you change those stories?_

Say again?

_Change the stories you wrote when you only sort-of knew what you were doing so that they mesh better with the new ones._

Do you really want me to go George Lucas on this?

_Ouch._

I mean, I've considered it. The stories that would have to change the most are those two. "Lost in the Land of Nod" could use some touching-up not so much because of its characterizations or dilemmas (it remains the purest distillation of my X-series thesis), but to align some of the details to be consistent (such as teleportation or the lack thereof). I've resisted doing so for a while, though. It wouldn't feel right.

A story is, in part, a reflection of the writer that you are when you write it. I can't turn back into that writer; there are absolutely things I would do differently if I were trying to write a story like that these days. I think I'm a better writer now, sure, but that doesn't mean I could improve the story by editing it as the writer I am now. It'd be like a teenager trying to cover a song he sang as a boy, before his voice changed. He just can't hit the same notes, not because he's a worse singer, but because he's using a different voice. Trying to overlay the two would be dissonant.

_You've been arguing with yourself about this a lot, huh?_

Hush. Next question.

_Why did you write this story, on this topic?_

The "why" is because Jetfire got the idea stuck in my head, so blame him. As to the execution, the content of the story, I had two goals. The first, initial goal was to explore the relationship between Iris and Zero, which I felt was so very important. The second developed later, and was to try to explain why the Hunters and Repliforce were both so ready to fight each other. Some have said they thought X4 had the stupidest plot of all the X games. It _is_ a lot to swallow that, even in the wake of an atrocity, Colonel would act so stupidly and the Hunters' leadership would have such a hair trigger on declaring Repliforce Maverick. It's hard to believe- without context, anyway. Consider this context.

Plus, I love the thought of Iris-Colonel as "twins with a conjoined brain", and I used or alluded to that phrase a couple of times because it tickled me. It also provides another way of thinking about the Zero-Iris fight, if the idea of Iris using Colonel's brain as an interface to plug into/summon a battle armor gives you the same trouble it gives me. In this case, what makes Iris so dangerous to Zero is her trauma-induced insanity (making her unpredictable), her familiarity with Zero, the backwash of Colonel's thoughts and memories, and the Z-saber Zero gave her. He can still beat her, but there's no chance he could do it while going easy on her- and anyway, "going easy" isn't something Zero was designed or programmed to do.

_Speaking of things Zero wasn't designed to do, why don't Zero and Iris kiss?_

Let me answer that question with another question: why would they kiss?

_Because they're in love. I mean, they are in love, right? You never did use the 'l' word in this story._

On purpose. They're in a version of love they understand. These aren't humans. Humans have a vocabulary of love and affection that dictates what we expect from love. It doesn't apply here. He's a brain-damaged warbot. She's a newbuilt replica android. Neither share that human vocabulary. Nevertheless, they have a relationship that is, by their standards, utterly profound. Zero has given Iris a weapon- one of his hyper-dangerous weapons, even. This makes her a threat when she wasn't one before, and Zero's programming is strongly oriented towards eliminating threats. There's a reason this act takes Iris' metaphorical breath away: she can feel how much emotion it took for Zero to do it. For her part, Iris can't have strong opinions. The Escape ensures that how other people feel is always more important to her than how she feels... except when it comes to Zero. That's how much he means to her.

Compared to that, how much more meaningful would a kiss be? Assuming they even knew how to kiss, which they don't, or that they knew that a kiss was a sign of affection, which they don't. (This is why a lot of the shipping/romance stories in this fandom rub me the wrong way- a lot of it ignores the very real differences between humans and reploids, starting with the lack of naughty bits and endocrine systems and memetic knowledge.)

_Why do all the humans have 'G' names?_

Coincidence. Grant was the name I picked for the commander, and that was very deliberate. I was evoking US Grant, a man who was a very good general but too trusting and overwhelmed to succeed at anything else. I started with 'Green' because I associated him with envy; his role is a covetous one. I kept being unsatisfied as to how obvious or subtle to make the association ("Malachite is green, that'll work—wait, who the heck knows what malachite is?" and so on), and eventually I ran out of time to dither over it, so I had to just leave it at Green. Gerry was a placeholder name that I couldn't shake.

_Does Iris understand what will happen to her when Colonel goes to the scrapheap?_

An interesting question. I'd say no. She doesn't think about things like that; she's not self-aware in that fashion. The reason she can't give orders is because her viewpoint is of other people as immutable, immovable objects. They matter more than her and she can't change them, so how must she shift to accomodate them? She sees the link with Colonel purely in terms of "from her to Colonel". She can't see the reverse; it's a blind spot. Which is why the backlash from Colonel's death is that much more powerful- she doesn't see it coming.

_Did Cain predict Zero's relationship with Iris and/or Colonel?_

No. Cain is smart, but not a seer. He actively worked to understand and foster the relationship between X and Zero because he knew it would be important to the history of robotics. In general, though, he struggles to place value on relationships. He's also strongly of the opinion that, after reploids (and similar) wake up and free will is in play, they're not predictable. For him, reploids having free will makes them almost random agents.

_You kept alluding to Zero trying not to disgrace himself or having to control himself when he's embarrassed or confused. What does that even mean?_

I allude to it in "Maintenance", where Dr. Cain had him pegged. Between his damage and his Wily-born programming, Zero's first instinct when he gets confused is to kill things until the situation is simple enough that he's not confused any more. He doesn't have a suffering circuit to let him understand that other people matter, and Wily's programming places no value on other people. The trouble is that X has told him that it's not okay to just go around killing people, and Zero understands enough to know the Hunters wouldn't let him stay if he acted like that. So if Zero wants to override his default reaction, he has to reframe the issues through these other lenses, e.g. "X wouldn't approve" or "I want to be a Hunter and if I habitually murder people the Hunters won't let me stay". This leads to his second default reaction, which is to do nothing- if he can't kill things and he's confused, going still and letting the people around him (especially X and, to a lesser extent, Rekir) work things out is safer. This is what made "Credo" such a fun story to write. In that story, poor Zero is in a confusing situation, but it's not urgent enough that he can justify calling in X all the time, so he has to work through it largely himself, which is no fun at all (for him).

_But he was getting better over time, right?_

Right. Another of my ongoing themes- Zero trying to be more X-like even as his systems return to spec and, thus, closer to Wily's original design and intent. One of the fascinating lines from X5's "bad ending" is the one about Zero "returning to his true self". (It sure justifies the Zero-X showdown better than either of the "good endings"!) I've tried to weave that progression into my stories, and when Sigma gets hold of that information... well, I should stop there in case people haven't read AHLtB.

That's something- throughout this epilogue, I've spoken of AHLtB (A Heavy Load to Bear) singularly. Really "Consequences", the post-X4 fic, is a companion to it, so important to understanding where X and Zero are on the eve of the Fifth War. So anywhere I reference AHLtB in this, "Consequences" should go right along with it.

See you next time!


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